Fourteen Minutes
by runninequalslife
Summary: She moved to New York with the chance of a lifetime, writing headlines. But when she discovers a mystery lurking behind Troy Bolton's past, Gabriella Montez begins the most important story of her career: his.
1. Minute One

**Title: **Fourteen Minutes

**Rating: **M for mature themes, mild sexual content, brief drug references, course language.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters, names, places, anything from High School Musical or Disney. This story is copyright to the owner and may not be used without permission. I in no way affiliated with any of the High School Musical Cast, Disney, Kenny Ortega or Peter Barsocchini. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summery: **She moved to New York with the chance of a lifetime, writing headlines. But when she discovers a mystery lurking behind Troy Bolton's past, Gabriella Montez begins the most important story of her career: his.

**A/N: **Before I say anything, I just want to let everyone know that for exactly eighty days since I closed the final document of Protecting Fate, I open this document and immediately start humming "fourteen, fourteen, fourteen minutes left better get it done." I blame Zac for being so damn hot while drenched in sweat.

Oh, right… I should talk about the story. For those of you who don't know me, I'm honored that you've opened this up and given this story a chance, and for the veterans of my work, welcome back. I'm hoping I haven't lost too many readers after my hiatus and that I've been forgiven for taking a break. But I know it was worth it. I've worked insanely hard on this, it may not show but I definitely _know_ I have worked my ass off. I'm not sure how people are going to take to this. There aren't any high speed chases by assassins or secret houses to hide from families. It may not be as dramatic or exciting as my previous work, but I really do hope some of you enjoy this. At first I may only update once a week, not like I used to because I don't have as much time as before, but after we get into the story I may update more.

And those pesky nerves never really do go away. Thank you for giving this story a chance, thank you for trusting me and allowing me to post on this site. You guys are incredible, thank you for reading.

All I have to say is… fourteen, fourteen… fourteen more minutes… get ready…

Game on.

* * *

Fourteen.

His life revolved around the number. Every breath, every step, every blink was surrounded by the double digits. From the day he was born on the fourteenth of October, it consumed everything and anything that brushed him.

The boy was six year old when his father escorted him to his first Laker's game and the players all signed a golden jersey with the number "14" screen printed on the back. He incidentally won the memorabilia and scampered home with a giant grin on his face. At age fourteen, he first entered Albuquerque East High School and was instantaneously labeled "king" of the institution. As the captain and point guard, the basketball team won the state championship by fourteen points his senior year. He was the fourteenth person in his class to receive his diploma and he drank fourteen beers the night of graduation to celebrate his achievements. He also threw up fourteen times.

He had been tied to the University of Los Angeles by fourteen scholarships; mostly little donations for his elite basketball skills with a thousand here, a thousand there. Fourteen excruciating games passed on the bench until the coach finally noticed his talent and placed him into a college level game. Fourteen minutes after the final buzzer of a play one Californian evening, he collided with the most stunning female he had ever laid eyes on. It was fourteen days after the incident that he found the courage to rap on her dorm room and ask her out on a date with fourteen pink roses. Fourteen months later, she barged into the apartment he shared with four other teammates with tears in her eyes. She had sobbed for fourteen minutes before she could finally utter the words that altered this entire future. Fourteen days later, he had entered a jewelry store fourteen blocks away and purchased the 14K white-gold ring. He had twirled her fourteen times around after she had proclaimed yes to his request on one knee.

It was fourteen hundred miles that they would have had to drive that fateful weekend to inform her parents of the news. A midnight thunder rolled through the stars when she suggested that they find refuge at a motel fourteen miles away. And he had stared into her stunning eyes for fourteen long seconds before he agreed to make the stop.

Fourteen firemen rushed to the scene of the crime fourteen minutes later. The bronze skin upon his face was slashed in fourteen inch slice that begun within his sandy hair and ran down his jaw line, though he was completely unconscious by the time of arrival. The ambulance sped him to the hospital fourteen miles away through the illumination of lightning painting the raging sky. A combination of seven EMTs, policemen, and firefighters -that was fourteen hands- struggled to remove the broken body from the mortality position, her cascading hair caked with the same thick blood that drenched her clothes. The liquid of death oozed from her lips as she whimpered fourteen times, the rain washed the residue away like water colored paint. Fourteen eyes lay upon her as she took her last breath in the shadows of the storming night.

Fourteen minutes. All it took was fourteen minutes for her to die.

* * *

"Push!" A deep voice commanded before shrieks of excruciating grunts and moans echoed through the narrow stairwell on that steamy Saturday afternoon.

A heated light peaked through the sliver of glass carved into the dusty-grey wind of walls leading up the twelve story building. The tight turns and elongated steps made maneuvering impossibly difficult to anyone carrying any object larger than one's handbag or brief case. Therefore, if any onlooker viewed the sight of the three adults attempting to squeeze the beige sleeper-sofa through the corners of the apartment stairwell, they would have certainly doubled over in amusement and whipped out a video camera to capture the failure.

"We _are _pushing!" One of the females huffed from the lower segment of the daunting steps. Her black eyes were cat-like slits as she glared at the male with bitterness and disgust. "_You_ need to pull harder!"

"Tay!" The other woman screamed when the pressure of the couch began to rebel against her grip. The midnight bob, belonging to the feminist nicknamed "Tay", flipped towards where the heavy furniture began to tumble. Her eyes engorged frightfully and she shot her toned arms out to rescue the sofa. She caught it skillfully, just before the other woman collapsed and caused total destruction in the crammed space that would make any claustrophobic have a full fledged panic attack.

"Sorry!" Taylor McKessie announced while she struggled to join the other two in carrying the chesterfield up what felt like Mount Everest.

"Next time," the coiled afro pulled into a low ponytail on the man's head bounced when he flashed the two a bright smile, his chocolate skin curled amusedly around his lips. "Instead of yelling at me, just keep on pushing, kay babe?"

Taylor flushed with annoyance when her sharp eyes turned back to her best friend. "I swear to God if we ever have a baby, I'm sending him five miles away from the delivery room."

"I heard that!" Her lover proclaimed which instigated rounds of giggles from the two girls that instantly mutated into groans when they fought to return to the task at hand.

Fifteen minutes ticked away, which actually passed by like fifteen hours, before the couch miraculously leveled on the seventh floor. The threesome had successfully accomplished Mission Impossible: Stairwell Style, and were now lumbering through the constricted hallway with the identical paint that expressed a neutral hue. "Careful!" The male, Chad Danforth, warned as the group stumbled through the wooden floors until they reach an adjacent door labeled "8G" in block letters above the peep hole.

Whatever strength had remained in the tiny fingers of Gabriella Montez suddenly faded when they stepped through the dark threshold of the apartment. Simultaneously, all three sets of hands dropped the sofa carelessly to the light carpet. Chad panted and fell onto the furniture, his muscles throbbed of strain. "Next time you move Gabs, I'm escaping to Australia."

Taylor smacked the back of his fluffy head before she rolled her eyes towards the petite woman coated in an olive skin tone. "He's just being a baby. We're happy to help you out."

"Well it's a good thing you guys are right across the hall. I'll let you know when the piano needs to come up." The slim twenty-three year old tossed her ebony curls, caught tightly into a high cluster at the top of her head, dramatically.

Chad's grin flipped into a frown. "You have a piano?"

Gabriella giggled her famous laugh before she shook her head. "Damn Danforth, you're gullible. I wish I did have one just to make you lift it though."

Two weeks of hustling and bustling had passed since Gabriella received the astonishing announcement at her Boston home on a fateful Tuesday evening. She had been curled up on that very couch of her much-too-small flat with a book after a long day of serving crabby, yet aspiring, poets in the coffee shop where she had been an employee. The novel in her hand tumbled to the floor when she had answered the phone; the voice congratulating her on the accomplishment of conquering over thirty-three other applicants in a prestigious honor of acceptance of an internship miles north, at smaller run news paper called the New York Tribute.

Originally born on the outskirts of Sacramento, California, it was clear to anyone within close proximities of the Gabriella that she was destined for a life in journalism. It may have been the loneliness of an only child that fueled her nosy fire. With a Disney Princess notebook in her clutches and a purple pen in the other, the meddlesome girl used to storm family gatherings to scribble headlines of what was being served with the stuffed turkey, what brawl was fuming between cousins and whether or not Aunt Alexandria was sporting the latest Christmas fashion in her ivory sweater. Usually, these pesters were closed with the relative swatting the inquisitions away with an annoyed hand; yet they never seemed to halt the young detective from her findings.

It had been her father that had planted the seed for her future all those years ago. The three-person family had been camping with out-of-town friends on a sunshine weekend. The five year old took this opportunity to interrogate the male scientist for hours from the topics of the stars to whether or not he believed Spongebob Squarepants could truly inhabit a pineapple under the sea. Jose Montez had pulled her into the comforts of his lap, a small chuckled played on his thin lips. "You'd make quite the reporter someday." He mused before smacking a kiss to the knot of her fuzzy hair; thus flicking the mental light bulb and placed her onto the path of extraordinary achievements. The need to fulfill the unofficial prophecy heightened after a terminal tumor attached to his pulmonary artery one year after. It took twelve months of suffering before he finally succumbed to the cancer. She missed him terribly, but compensated that he had struggled in his final stages and was in a much happier place.

She plopped onto the faux leather arm of the sofa and watched as Chad maneuvered his muscular body so he was sprawled across the cushions and his black stubble snuggled into one of the cracks. "Don't make me move."

"We don't have that much more stuff, right?" Taylor asked with fatigue that fought to surface from her uneven tone. Gabriella's amber eyes cast over the filled boxes scattered around the cozy apartment. The walls were kissed with a pale yellow paint, and a mahogany door led to the single bedroom.

Gabriella shook her head. "Nope. The couch was the last of the furniture. So you can stop complaining Danforth. It's bad for your image."

Taylor had been brought into her life freshman year at a high school located in Sacramento. From the moment their lockers were stationed beside each other due to the alphabet, a friendship had been bonded. They had attended countless football and basketball games with their hips joined and remained inseparable throughout the awkward moments. The first three years had passed by innocently, enjoying the pleasures of the establishment while still remaining loyal to their rules and morals. They were known around the school; even though Taylor was valedictorian and Gabriella was extremely intelligent herself, they were hardly labeled as geek. Both were invited to Christmas and Halloween gatherings, skating around the edges of what was considered popular. As senior year rolled around, Gabriella's beauty caught the eyes of pursuers, therefore shooting her up on the ladder of social hierarchy, yet not forgetting about Taylor. It was then that she experienced the first taste of rebellion in the form of vodka upon her tongue.

But the bliss of a teenager had to end, and it was after graduation that the two separated into their different paths. Taylor was shipped off to New York University for human relations, while Gabriella attended Boston University, earning her undergraduate in Journalism early and minored in psychology. She could still recall the annoyance in Taylor's voice when she had phone her with news of meeting a basketball player from Syracuse who was visiting over the Thanksgiving holiday her freshman year. Chad was an unlikely candidate for Taylor's heart, but somehow his opposite personality seemed to woo her, and before long they were an item. Gabriella had driven up from Boston one summer to meet him. Instantly, they bonded and became unrelated brother and sister. After college, the two love birds moved in together into the apartment across the hallway from the one she was sitting in.

Fate had been in her hands when she called Taylor two weeks previously to inform her of the exciting news. She had been searching unsuccessfully for an internship at various news stations in the Boston area before she expanded her scout to other states. Gabriella had chuckled when she applied for the internship at the Tribute; if she couldn't even scrap a local neighborhood paper, why would a New York gazette want her? Yet the wild goose chase paid off, and it was sheer luck that the apartment opposite to her best friend's was vacant.

"I'm not complaining! I'm just making sure you're not late for your own party." Chad pointed out before grudgingly returned to a seated position

Gabriella raised a thin eyebrow. "Don't you mean _your_ party?"

She should have been thankful that her friends were throwing her a "Welcome to New York" soiree that evening, though she knew the hidden truth of the party was to introduce her to their friends so she would have more of a social circle than two people. Gabriella was not coy; yet did have a hidden insecure side. What woman didn't? She was strong willed, but not out of control.

"It will be good for you after all of this shit." Chad nodded to the heaps of boxes piled upon the cherry wood of the flood.

"It's not shit! It's…" Her dark eyes surveyed the mountains of cardboard. "Stuff. And I'm pretty sure digging through this _stuff _is going to be impossible to find something to wear. And I'm not coming in sweats." She glanced down at her wife beater and turquoise athletic shorts.

Taylor laughed as her boyfriend stretched into a standing position. "The boxes of your wardrobe are in your room. Dress casual, there's no need to get really dolled up. And be there by seven."

"Or we're coming to kidnap you," Chad chuckled before Gabriella smacked his chest. "Ouch!"

Gabriella sighed before turning towards the vast skyline of New York City from outside her bay window. It was her new home, with a fresh life and career. The city of dreams and disasters, prosperity and slum lay before her.

Aspirations could be reached while walking upon the sidewalks below. Her fantasies could be grasped in the speeding lights. She turned back to her two friends, sending them warm smiles. "Seven," she repeated before taking a defining step towards her future. "So… how about helping me with that piano?"

"Only if you carry me on it." Chad pushed her shoulder playfully before she led them through her apartment to retrieve the rest of the boxes from her car, commencing a life she never dreamed of possessing.

* * *

The dimmed lights of the maroon apartment gave off both an intimate and mysterious appeal to the atmosphere. The mellow mood of the music wrapped around the attendees in the Danforth-McKessie home, the small party was in full swing three hours after it began. Gabriella floated from guest to guest, while she branched her entourage to these strangers who all greeted her with warm smiles and waves. But by now she was getting irritated and wanted to slam her own apartment door to get away from the socialization.

The title of "party" was some what flexible in labeling. It resembled much more of an open house, although the closer friends lingered rather than the passing acquaintances of Chad and Taylor. The TV was entertaining the posse surrounding the ongoing Yankee's game. She was practically drowning in descriptions of how the occupants knew her neighbors. Some had met between drills at the dentist; others were long time friends of Chad's parent's dog's owner's sister. She was introduced to a few other tenants in the building, though by the time they had left she would have barely deciphered Billy from Bambi.

Currently, Gabriella stood before a babbling blonde with her sunshine hair pulled into an extravagant bun. She held an air of superiority as she spoke, with diamonds that adorned her ears and neck. "There's nothing quite like the feeling of your first New York show, it's absolutely fabulous." She bragged; her high cheekbones beamed with pride while she swirled the crystal liquid in her drinking glass.

Her exotic name was Sharpay Evans, which should have been Gabriella's first indication that the woman belonged in a glamorous museum from her beauty or a mental institution for her insanity. Within the past ten minutes of speaking with the diva, she had learned Sharpay was raised in an expensive mansion near Beverly Hills with her rich parents. After staring in nineteen school musicals, she was accepted into Julliard for her talent in both vocal and stagecraft. Apparently, she was portraying as Maureen in the musical adaptation of Rent and had a penthouse the size of a queen's uptown.

Taylor took a sip of the red wine while she stared distantly at the baseball game on the television. "That's great Sharpay. So, a lot of people came tonight." She veered the conversation and looked at her best friend.

Gabriella's smoky eyes widened. "What? Oh yeah. You guys have a lot of friends." she murmured and surveyed the scene of the living room and its co-ed occupants.

She knew she had turned heads when she stepped through the door dressed in her dark washed jeans and black gladiator-style wedges. Her curls had been tamed into cascading waves that rested upon the petite mounds of her breasts. The appropriate amount of cleavage peaked through the lace of her loose and ebony tank top that flowed down her slim body.

From what she had gathered, it seemed that Chad and Taylor mostly spent time with the couple standing before them along with two others she had yet to meet, while the rest of the party were distant friends, classmates or co-workers. Sharpay's plucked eyebrows furrowed with irritation as she glanced at something over Gabriella's shoulder. "_She's_ not coming tonight, is she?"

Gabriella's forehead scrunched in confusion at who "she" was, but she didn't care much. Her head throbbed like an early morning hangover, even if she was completely sober. The flight that morning had been long, and it seemed every muscle in her body ached of moving her possessions that day. All she really wanted to do was curl up in front of the Yankees on her own couch with a bottle of Smirnoff and drink away her anxieties of Monday morning.

"No, she's not. She started studying for her Bar exam tonight. And she has a name too, you know." Taylor snapped almost angrily.

"Whatever." Sharpay mouthed and stuck her sharp nose in the air with supremacy.

"So how do you like New York, Gabriella?" The dark male with his arm slipped around Sharpay's boney shoulder, Zeke Baylor, asked curiously. He was a chef who worked at a fancy restaurant seven blocks from where they were. He was also the star's boyfriend of a year and from what Gabriella had guessed by his kind demeanor, he seemed to be the exact opposite of her.

She shrugged and took a careful sip of wine before answering. "It's busy."

Sharpay rolled her light brown eyes. "No shit. It's New York, sweetheart."

Chad chuckled. "Ignore Ice Queen over here. You haven't even been here twenty four hours."

"When do you start working?" Zeke inquired before he took a long drink of his beer.

Gabriella fingered the empty crystal of her glass, remembering the nerves that had begun to settle in her chest of thoughts about what stress the next few days would bring her. It was bad enough her apartment still looked like a junk yard, but actually setting out to do what she came for? That was a nightmare all in its own. "Umm… I go in on Monday to get settled."

"So we're gonna see your name in the Tribute on Tuesday." Chad said with teasing hopes.

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "No. You'll see me in Krispy Kreme fetching some fat cow his custer-filled doughnuts and cheep coffee." The glamorous life of an intern at its best.

"Baby steps," Taylor reminded soothingly, and Gabriella shot a bitter look towards her. "Soon you'll be headlining."

"Sure I will, and right now the only thing that I'm headlining is the damn sign over my head," Gabriella glared ruthlessly at a giant banner that read, "Welcome to the Big Apple Gabriella!" hanging above them. It had been Chad's idea, clearly with the sloppiness of the paint and an apple that looked more like someone sat in the ruby paint. She could have murdered him for it. "Was the banner necessary?"

Chad smiled cheekily before he threw an arm around her. "Only for you, cuz I knew how much you'd love it."

Gabriella pushed him away with an annoyed shove. "Dickface. I'm going to go get something else, anyone want anything?" She wasn't really asking because she wanted to play hostess, but no one made a comment to jump on the offer so she shrugged it off.

Walking to the kitchen was like trudging through a sea of paparazzi. The mood of the party seemed to gravitate towards discovering every life story Gabriella had, though she figured if she ever ran into these people again they wouldn't have given a rat's ass about whether or not she had siblings or if she ever broke her clavicle. So as the questions bombarded her, she responded with polite smiles and mentally flipped every one of them off in her sour mood. They were nice people, but she just wanted isolation.

Once reaching her destination, she gently placed the elegant glass into the sink and frowned at the left over dirty dishes sitting upon the counter. Gabriella sighed, running her thin fingers through her tumbling tendrils, and yanked open the liquor cabinet; she fought with the urge to swipe out the vodka and tonic. It was probably wise not to become sloshed at her own party, so instead she pouted and snatched a bottled water from the chilled refrigerator and scowled at the plastic while her elbows rested on the counter; oblivious to the fact that someone had been watching her since she arrived in the kitchen.

Her mind was swirled in fears of what would come in the next few days. Terror had run through her body like lightning. Sure, she had been an employee at the cutesy coffee shop back in Boston, but this was the real deal. The path to her career was full of mysterious vines and daunting underbrush-in one moment her future could sink into the quicksand of failure. For all of college she had begged for this chance –thousands could read her work, yet she suddenly felt inferior, worthless even…

"I'm pretty sure it's not going to magically turn into tequila if you keep staring at it."

The husky voice pulled her out of the frump she was in and caused her mocha eyes to lift with curiosity at the perpetrator of her interrupted thoughts. Her initial reaction was to lash out upon whoever had brought her back to the aggravation of the atmosphere she did not want to be in, but she was halted when her sunless eyes landed upon the figure who had just spoken. He was leaned against the granite by the hip, the light-wash denim hung deliciously off his body enough to see a hint of his periwinkle boxers. His chestnut bangs were spiked off of his forehead –the rest of his hair was snipped shorter, though nothing like a buzz- in a manor that only the perfect structure of his face could pull off without appearing as though he slaved over gel products. A navy long sleeve was pushed up on his bronze forearms; it was clear by the tight cling of the fabric that his muscles were worked regularly, yet he was by no means excessively bulky.

In hindsight months later, she may have admitted that she had suddenly drowned in the intensity of his sapphire irises the first time her chocolate orbs connected with his. At a later time, she would have created some lie that stated she was startled by the bewitched enchantment of his oceanic shades when she was first exposed to them.

However, at the current date, Gabriella shrugged indifferently before she fixed her gaze back at her water. "I was hoping vodka actually."

The man chuckled, but did not move as she rotated the plastic in her hand as though it was inspected under a microscope. "I don't think the party's _that _much of a bust. But seeing you polka with a lamp might brighten things up."

Gabriella snorted before she shifted her eyes back onto his and inquisitively tilted her head to the side. She couldn't deny that the cerulean in his eyes were mesmerizing. Like the classic detective would, she was inspecting the way they were speckled with clusters of turquoise flakes surrounding his pupils. "Don't get your hopes up. But coat racks and I tend to get hot and heavy on the dance floor."

He laughed again, a kind of sound that naturally eased her shoulder tensions. Her profession gave her an outlook on certain individuals, along with her psychology minor. There were some people who just had a chuckle that calmed it's listeners like the steady crash of ocean waves. The dazzling smile that played on his lips also heightened the harmonious effect he gave off. It seemed odd that she would be spilling her distaste for the party to one of the party-goers, but the male before her seemed bemused by her frustrations.

"I'll be sure to get my camera for that one," he joked, and Gabriella turned to him again to absorb the pheromones he produced. The way his body curved sent off a mysterious appeal, yet his mockery had been charming. "You know, Gabriella… I could always distract Chad so you could slip out the door without him noticing."

Gabriella blinked with confusion. "How'd you know my name?"

His prickly hair nodded to the parody of the obnoxious ass-stained sign with her name stamped across it. "Wild guess." He replied with a smirk.

The more times she looked at him, the more attractive he seemed. The way his bangs rose to outline the baby soft skin of his face. How his knuckles were wider than the tips of his fingers. Again, in retrospect a year from now, she might have stated that the first encounter was love at first sight. But in reality, she found his jokes slightly amusing and that he was indeed, appealing to the eye. However, that was the extent to her emotions as she finally stood straight up and caught her balance. "How do you know them?"

The man shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his light jeans and adjusted his position on the counter. "Chad and I have been tight since preschool. We grew up together." He admitted while outlining the edge of the granite with his digits. Gabriella couldn't help but be curious and lingered her gaze on the third finger. It was naked.

She suddenly wracked her memory and could recall faint stories with a common character. "I see. I give you props for putting up with the bastard for so long."

He smirked a sparkling smile. "I question why I haven't ditched his ass daily."

She liked this guy, his sharp attitude. He was definitely someone she wanted to get aquatinted with in this crazy city. Yet, there was something about him, a cryptic aura that floated around the air he breathed. It was inviting, and Gabriella's questioning personality propelled her to be intrigued.

"You live around here?" Gabriella watched him nod; the golden face shimmered in and out of the shadowed lighting around the dimmed apartment.

"A few blocks north. Chad and Tay should just quit their jobs and just be real estate agents. He helped me get my apartment too."

Gabriella picked up on the way his skin was bronze, clear from an overdose of UV rays. Even though it was August, it would have been difficult to imitate the sun kissed tone of his flesh. She also noted the way he did not have a New York or Brooklyn accent. It was clear that he grew up out of town somewhere. Again, she was one for detail, which made an excellent journalist. Sometimes she questioned why she was in communications and not a profiler.

They were silent for a brief moment, Gabriella found herself dissecting the multihued of his eyes. It wasn't until he cracked a bright grin before he took a step back and narrowed his brow in closing. "I should probably let you get back to pouting then. Or maybe you should go converse with your guests before they start to think you don't want to be here." He teased lightly, just before he took a long swig of the amber Corona she didn't even noticed he was drinking. Gabriella tried not to frown at the fact that his beverage was stronger than hers was.

"Don't mock me…erm…" The insult faded when she realized that she didn't know his name.

He shot her one more round of a glimmering smile before he held out his hand in introduction. "Troy. Troy Bolton."

Gabriella grinned cheekily back before closing her palm around his. "Gabriella Montez." She informed him, even if it seemed he had already been aware of her name before he even approached her.

Troy pumped her slim arm one more time before he bowed his head in farewell. "Well Gabriella Montez, I hope you enjoy New York," he released his grasp and stole his beer from the counter, trailing his hypnotic eyes over her face one more time. "I'm sure I'll see you around somewhere?" He questioned instead of stated.

Gabriella nodded, her flowing curls hung over her body as she absorbed the abstruseness of this man one more time. "Maybe on the wanted pages for executing Operation: Murder Chad Danforth for His Stupid Parties."

He chuckled. "Don't hurt him too bad," Troy beamed before increasing the distance between them. "Good luck Gabriella." His hand gave a half wave; he parted from the kitchen and disappeared into the cluster of attendees circling the intimate appeal of the room. With a sigh, Gabriella glanced at the faint illumination of the clock on the microwave. Only a few more hours and she'd be able to escape this charade to continue to panic over her new life.

Although it went unknowingly, it was in only fourteen minutes that Troy Bolton first entered her life, and would continue to shake her world for the rest of time.


	2. Minute Two

**A/N: I'm astounded by the response for this story. Thank you everyone who took the time to review, because it really put a smile on my face. I'm updating now because I have a pretty crazy/exciting weekend, so you'll probably see the next chapter sometime mid next week to the weekend. There was a couple people who asked if the girl in the "fourteen" part of the first chapter was Gabriella, and I think it's pretty evident after this chapter the answer to that question. And just keep in the back of your heads, this story is supposed to be mystery-ish. Therefore, you're not always going to have every answer to every question. My advice would be to wait a couple chapters and see if it is answered before shooting a PM. Although I do love PMs and they are more than welcome! **

**As always, thanks for trusting me and reading. I hope you like this chapter.

* * *

**

Some people choose their own fate, their depression that inevitably causes the person to crumble at their poor decisions. As a student, many find themselves caught up in the social control and choose to take that first grassy taste of pot, only to find the first drug a gateway to worse. Others find themselves under the influence of gang activity, unable to meet demands of their controllers so they decide to steal. However, these are the lucky ones. There was no one to blame but themselves for their mistakes. They could fall asleep knowing full well that their lives were destroyed because of their actions.

It was cruel to know that he hadn't been the cause of his own destiny.

Cars sped through the night like a high speed chase on fast-forward as Troy Bolton briskly marched through the shadows of New York that Saturday evening. The glimmering lights of the towering skyscrapers twinkled above him-like the stars that were masked by the heaps of smog and dust swirling around the skyline. His shoulder muscles contracted as he shoved his hands into the depths of his jean pockets and kept his gaze on his black converse shoes and the gum-stained sidewalk. The muggy air was still warm, so he pushed up the sleeves on his navy long sleeve and jogged past the zooming sound of honking taxis.

His lungs clenched like hot tar was poured on them from the dark buildings above. It was far too difficult to breathe, though the cause was not from the polluted atmosphere. There weren't many moments like this anymore, the feeling of helplessness and the sensation that his skin was like an eggshell. His entire body felt empty, sucked of life when his dulled eyes lifted to view the brick architecture he knew so well.

Troy dragged his feet up the steps to the door, when he finally reached his apartment building. Above the roaring traffic, he could hear the delicate sounds of a woman giggling on the stoop next to his. His head dared to glance sideways, only to take in the sight of a blissful blonde clutching the shoulders of her lover desperately. His lips were at her neck, probably whispering sweet nothings into her ear. A stab pierced through his heart before he opened the door to his living quarters, only to be enclosed into blackness as the hinges slammed to a shut.

He wasn't used to this feeling again, the overwhelming sensation of angst and frustration at the world. His palm reached up and dug his fingers into his scalp, as though maybe if he squeezed hard enough this ache would disappear like smoke. In a few days he would be back to normal. But it was the date, the date that should have brought him joy but instead caused his heart to twist and rip.

The stairwell seemed all too silent as Troy slowly ascended. The usual sounds of the doors opening and slamming were absent, though he couldn't deny he was happy the Harper teenager on the second floor and her best friend were not taking the usual stalking rounds of peaking to see if he had returned from where ever he was. It was past midnight, and even on a Saturday night, all was noiseless when he reached the fourth story and padded to the end of the corridor. He sighed before he crept through the stillness towards the end of the creamy colored hallway. Even the jingle of his clattering keys seemed as though they were interrupting some sort of peace when he pushed open the door to his home.

There was a soft glow of a lamp on the tanned walls as he stepped inside. A tiny kitchen was tucked to his immediate right, where he threw his keys onto the russet countertop. A dark couch loomed before him, propped in front of the television that sat on a low, black stand just below a window that held the vast night.

Troy narrowed his brunette brow with confusion, before he watched a figure stir at his ruckus from the sofa. The slender body rose to a stance, her straight hair danced over her back in deep, chestnut shimmers. From the distance he was at, Troy still noted the way her arms were muscular, not quite masculine but portrayed the image of a gymnast. Her frame reflected this, for she was flat as a board yet strong, her thinness illustrated power instead of a model type so many strived for.

The female placed down the text she was engrossed in before finally turning her face to him. Her features were hard, not pointed, matching the rest of her body. The skin that was hidden beneath sweats was creamy, not quite tanned but not pale either. It was overwhelming to intake the sharp emeralds of her eyes that shined in the dimness. She was attractive, in her own non-runway kind of way.

"Hey," The woman greeted softly, yet her even voice was not flowery as most members of the opposite sex were. Neither was it manly, however. Her eyes remained on his, carefully reading his reactions as though he was a time bomb about to explode.

Troy feigned as smile before he pressed his knuckles against the hard counter. "Hey Alicia."

She dared to stride across the wooden floor of his apartment and stood before him, pure concern in her smooth face as she gazed upon him. Troy couldn't help but feel comfort at his friend, a slight ease in his heart distracted him momentarily from his temporary depression. Her hands, which were slightly rough, slithered up his built chest before he pulled her into a bone crushing hug, attempting to rid the poisonous images that flashed through his brain. "How you holding up?"

He let go of her, the waft of her sporty perfume filled his nostrils. The twenty-four year old nervously shifted his weight between his Converse sneakers before he shrugged. "I don't know… as much as I can I guess, given it's..."

"Today." She breathed out, placing her hands on her backside.

Alicia Moretti had been Troy Bolton's best friend since college. He couldn't thank her enough for the countless nights she spent watching his basketball skills as he practiced hour after hour or the piles of exam papers she had helped him write. They had stayed up until three in the morning with bowls of ice cream laughing hysterically, and they had also kept their eyes opened until the same time with tears pouring down from them. She had seen the worst, and the best of him. His hand had been held by hers through the albums of pictures, the condolences at the funeral, and the final burial. She was what had kept him together in his nightmare.

Troy scratched the back of his stiff neck, "How'd the studying go?" He nodded towards the heaps of law text books on his coffee table, remembering he told her to stay at his apartment to study for her Bar Exam just in case he might need her when he returned.

Alicia rolled onto her toes, balancing with ease and scowled at the mountain of courts and precedents looming over his furniture. "Ugh… you don't want to know… how was the party thing?"

He ran his palm face down along the counter, not meeting her piercing stare. He was very well aware she was carefully observing him just in case his body began to rebel in vulnerability. "Good I guess."

"Did you meet her?" She inquired while scooted to the edge of his soft, leather couch and planted a seat on the arm.

The attractive face he had just been introduced to flashed before his eyes. There was no denying that the Boston girl was stunning, Troy had immediately been entranced by her glow the moment he stepped into the Danforth-McKessie home. He had mingled with the guests, finding his thoughts distant and his solemn mood placed onto hold in front of others. The host was witty, charming and someone he would have desired in his circle of friends.

Troy shrugged his shoulders; countless days of shooting at a hoop seemed to pay off for his lean body. "Gabriella? Yeah… she seems pretty cool."

They were skirting around the obvious, attempting not to bring up the date as though it might disturb the dead's soundless slumber. Alicia's eyes once again met his, a knowing look powered between them and Troy was certain that she wasn't going to contain the silence any longer. "Troy, really. Are you okay?"

His heart clenched violently at the question, the one he had been avoiding for so long. It had been easy to dodge Chad's care for his wellbeing at the party, but he couldn't avoid Alicia's concerns. He pushed off the edge of the cupboards and couldn't help the foul daggers he pounded in her direction. "I feel fantastic," he growled grudgingly, his feet suddenly pacing the floor with a vengeance.

"Troy..." She pushed and leaned forward on the couch.

"I don't want to talk about it." He grumbled, his trail starting to hollow the floorboards with his rapid pace.

Alicia rolled her bright eyes. "Come on Bolton… don't play tough guy."

"I'm not playing anything." Troy shot back, his anger and irritation heightened while his slightly scruffy cheeks squeezed in defense.

He could feel her gaze burning holes into the side of his face as she watched him march from side to side. "Troy, I just wanna know if you're…"

"Why?" Troy snapped and stopped his shift, with his irises like a navy storm, but she held her ground. "Just because it's my dead fiancée's fucking birthday doesn't mean I'm going to spontaneously combust."

Silence sliced through the air like the stab of a knife at the revelation of the date. Tension pooled on the floor before them; Troy's jaw was clenched in a hard line that was almost frightening. Alicia sighed almost painfully, her fingers threaded through her straight strands warily. He didn't want to fight with her, not today, but he was tired of the glass-like feeling that covered his skin. It was as though a fleck of dust on his skin may induce his shatter. Troy Bolton was strong; he hated the vulnerability that came on certain remembrances as today.

Alicia tightened the grip she had on her biceps, and after the initial shock of the outburst waved over, her eyes narrowed with slight anger. "Don't shut me out Bolton. I've been through this shit with you for four years… don't start being a dick to me about it because it's her birthday."

It was true; Troy wouldn't have survived her death without Alicia by his side. Chad had been there for him as well, but he was certain he would have melted into a heap of wax if Alicia hadn't allowed him to cry onto her shoulder those first months after... the incident. To this day, he could still feel the burn of the acidic tears on his cheeks when the doctors came into his hospital room and told him the news of the loss. The memory was etched into his brain like a scar, any moment the nightmare of the stormy night could snatch him from reality and shove him into the fateful night.

Guilt began to bubble in his stomach, for she was absolutely right. His large hand ran through the brunette bangs of his hair before he made eye contact with her, a glance that held a double meaning of need. "Look… it's been a long day. I'm going to bed."

Alicia made no movement to pick up her belongings and head back to her own place when Troy pushed off the counter and crossed the room, never removing his gaze from her. Instead, she crossed her arms again and cocked a dark eyebrow. "Do you need me to stay tonight?" She momentarily flickered her stare to the bedroom door before meeting his once again.

The offer hung in the thick air like a hypnotic gas. She chewed on her bottom lip almost nervously, yet Troy's hard tone never missed a beat. "I'm not stopping you from leaving if you want to."

"I don't want to. The roommates are out to get hammered tonight," she explained, referencing the three other women she lived with in her apartment a few blocks away. "I can crash on the couch if you want…" Alicia rolled the pressure on her skin carefully with the pads of her fingers.

Troy sighed before he placed a hand onto the threshold and stroked the cherry wood up and down the frame. The intensity of their stare was overpowering, mind-blowing when he leaned his brow forward in a mysterious way. "The door's always open." He whispered before entering the bedroom, the hinges wide and inviting.

* * *

Every girl she had ever known dreamed about being in the position she was. It was a fantasy of those who females who were introduced to Troy Bolton. There was something unbelievably appealing about his charm, the way he carried himself and of course how he looked as though he could have been named model of the year. He was funny, with a smile that stretched to his eyes and a twinkle in those bewitching ceruleans that made hearts pitter patter with longing. The women of the world would have sold their soul to be lying, naked, in his bed listening to his even breathing. To watch his back muscles contract and expand with power, aware that a few hours before those tendons had been tangled with theirs, pumping fluidly into their warm centre. They would have signed their lives away just to be able to say that they had felt Troy Bolton inside them.

But Alicia Moretti's heart ached in angst instead.

The faint glow of the New York skyline caused an eerily shadow through his maroon curtains, drawing long stretches of blackness over his bronze skin. The tiny bedroom held hints of a ghostly blue hue, the distant sound of cars rushing below were silenced with the perfection of his lungs in-taking oxygen. The matching heather-colored comforter was drawn over his frame, revealing only the sculpted artwork of his bare back as he was turned away from her.

Alicia couldn't help but drink in the sight of her best friend as she lay awake in the darkness. She longed to wrap her arms around him, press delicate kisses to his neck and feel him snuggle into her. It was cruel really, to watch such a perfection sleep on the opposite side of the bed after sex and not be able to touch him afterwards. Instead of doing what she desired, she wiggled further beneath the warm covers, feeling every inch of his cotton sheets brush her nude skin.

They weren't dating, much to Alicia's dismay. One couldn't even consider them "together". Were they friends with benefits? Possibly, but in the past two years the only time there were sexual encounters between the two were when significant dates popped up and Troy would need her once again, as he did the first two years after she died, or when either were ridiculously horny. She could recall the caring tone of his voice after they first touched each other intimately. It was fourteen weeks after her death, fourteen long weeks of tears, funerals, speeches and heartbreak. He didn't want to use her, but in the heat of the moment they ended up in cohesion. After the deed, he had apologized and promised her that it would never occur again, however the promise was broken the next night, and the next, and the next until finally he stopped denying that he needed her.

But she had loved him.

It was long before their lips first touched that her heart had chosen him. Years before their hugs turned into caresses did she know that she set her sights on him. Before the betrayal and the blood spilt, she knew that she wanted him. It was even before he had first laid eyes on that blonde cascade of beauty did she beg for his attention. She had always been in love with Troy Bolton, a love that was robbed from her when he ran into the girl after his basketball game.

Alicia sighed and flicked her gaze to him once again, the mop of his hair in a disarranged mess. Her rough hand reached out and carefully ghosted over his arm, not quite touching the holy skin. He stirred at the presence, flipping his sculpted body over to face her, sleep still drifted over his face. She caught her swollen lip between her teeth, tentative in her reaction to the divine being in front of her.

She dared to allow her fingers to rest on his forearm, and winced when his breath hitched for a brief moment in his slumber. Alicia's eyes bugged, afraid that he would awaken and discover the momentary vulnerability her hand produced. But instead of opening those beautiful oceanic blues, Troy dug his face further into the squish of his pillow, a soft mumble whistled through his lips, "Em…" The mass of brown hair bowed as she stared at the plain spread. The ache in her heart once again panged with loneliness.

She didn't sleep with him because he was Troy Bolton or to claim that she managed to grasp the unavailable.

She did it because there was a dull hope that maybe one day, he would mutter her name instead.

* * *

"You nervous?"

Gabriella sighed defeated as she crashed her back to the floor and stared blankly at the yellow ceiling of her apartment. The towers of boxes were slowly leveling; however it still appeared that she was swimming in cardboard and that she had constructed an indestructible fort. Her gray tee rose on her body to reveal the hint of her darkened skin as she lay horizontally and her spiraled curls pooled around her head. She could feel Taylor's eyes on her as she raised her thin shoulders and played with a loose string on her pink athletic shorts.

"Yeah, I guess I am." She muttered before glancing towards her best friend to see a bemused look on her face.

Taylor shook her head, her black bob sashaying from side to side while her muscular legs were curled onto the couch beneath her black sweats. "Don't be. Seriously Gabs… you're going to blow them away. You've already got the internship…"

"I know, but that's all it is," Gabriella flipped onto her stomach and peered up at Taylor, her legs dangling delicately. "An internship. I don't have a job there."

"You'll be fine," Taylor promised before Gabriella placed her head into the makeshift pillow of her bicep and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. Tomorrow was the first day at the Tribute and the jitters in her stomach didn't seem to die no matter how hard she begged for them to. "Try not to think about it."

Gabriella rolled her dark eyes. "That's like telling a teenager not to fuck."

"But you were the best writer on the Boston University paper. Sister… you've got what it takes." Taylor once again encouraged, but Gabriella was not fishing for praise. Instead, she was secretly praying for the boxes in the living area to magically disappear like smoke. Chad had left for the gym about an hour and a half ago, so Taylor had kindly offered her assistance to aid her friend in the move once again. Her boyfriend was due back any minute, and Gabriella really just wanted to distance her mind from the worries the next day would bring.

She was about to rebut about how none of this mattered when a sudden rap on the door filled the emptiness of the room. Both women shot their heads towards the intrusion and Gabriella furrowed her brow. It seemed bizarre that someone would visit her when she rarely knew anyone in the enormous town. "You wanna check who it is?" Her laziness cast over her slender frame as she nodded towards the door.

Taylor leapt from her spot and dodged the fortress Gabriella was hidden beneath. She allowed her heavy lids to flutter closed again, just before the NYU graduate's voice entered her ears once again. "It's Chad. I'm letting him in."

"Tell him he's banned from this apartment until he showers the shit off his body first, I don't want toxins in the new place." She mumbled from her arm, blackness surrounding her with her eyelids closed. The gentle sound of the door closing filled the room.

"I heard that Montez." The obvious voice of Chad Danforth snapped.

With her earlobe pressed so tightly against the white carpet, she could feel the vibrations of a pair of feet approaching her. She refused to look at the owner while she lay sprawled across the floor. A sudden weight thudded against the ground, which did nothing but cause her head to burrow further into the crevice of her arm.

"Is this what you call unpacking?"

The husky voice was unfamiliar at first, a foreign silky tone that she was not quite used to yet. However, memories of the previous evening suddenly flooded her brain as she yanked her head from the careless position, almost giving herself whiplash. But it confirmed her suspicions of the owner, whose cyan orbs were glittering with delight as he stared down at her with amusement tugging at the sides of his bronze lips.

She had met so many people last night, faces and names had become blurred together. But she had thought about this man after he had left the party the previous evening. He had been the one guest who hadn't put up an act and pretended to be excited about her arrival. He was genuine; therefore Gabriella had stored his name for future references.

Oh yeah… and he was fucking hot.

"I'm hoping if I think about it hard enough, they'll just go away." Gabriella responded, her eyes never leaving the crystal blue of his.

He was cross legged on the floor, with a pair of black basketball shorts over the soft curls of manly hair on his tanned calves. While her eyes traveled north, she noted that the previous evening her assumptions had been correct about his built. His blue, sleeveless shirt allowed a peak of his defined arms, again not bulky but most definitely appealing and muscular.

His chestnut eyebrow cocked with mockery. "Good luck with that."

Gabriella giggled before swinging her legs into a pretzel style. "You underestimate me," she raised her gaze to meet his, finding it difficult to form coherent words while drowning in the cerulean that were so mesmerizing. She had never seen anything quite like them and her in-born curiosity propelled her to examine every jade flake glittering in the artwork. "What are you doing here?"

Troy tilted his head towards the kissing sounds that developed from her two best friends behind the couch. "Chad and I were at the gym."

"He's gotta keep his game up so his players don't run circles around his ass." Chad teased before his formed body appeared from around the furniture, toying with Taylor's fingers.

Her dark brow furrowed with confusion as a dazzling smile crossed Troy's thin lips. His grin stretched to his ears, quite different from the previous evening when he sent casual curls in her direction. Even his skin seemed slightly more animated, golden than at the party last night. Not that he seemed boring or irritable at Chad's, but Gabriella noted the genuine happiness that crossed him. It was comforting. "Players?" She questioned.

Troy ignored her inquires, which irritated her and heightened his mystery. "Nice place you got." His stunning irises surveyed the cluttered room approvingly.

"The fort of boxes or the apartment?" Gabriella asked and wiggled her slender legs from her bottom. She gripped the edges of the soft couch and struggled to a stance, the blood rushing through her limbs felt hot from the position she had been in. Troy followed her lead and stood as well, his body even more delicious when in full view and when he fingered the brunette bangs off his golden face.

He chuckled and flashed the million dollar smile. "Both."

"Dude… you did make a fort!" Chad exclaimed, his childish eyes delighted and illuminated.

"Down, boy," Troy ordered with a grin. "I can't take you anywhere. You're like a hyper poodle or something."

"His hair makes him look like one," Gabriella snickered before she received rounds of daggers from the sunless glare across the room. "I'm just saying!"

"Oh fuck off Montez," he growled before he released his death grip on Taylor's palm. Without asking, he spun in his red basketball shoes and marched to the left corner of the apartment where a tiny kitchen jutted from the wall. His coffee colored fingers ran along the white wood and yanked open the nearest cupboard just above the silver shining sink. "I'm starving… got any food here?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes. "When have I had time to find a grocery store? I was at your damn party last night. There's yogurt in the fridge." Chad scowled as though the thought of anything healthy was foul.

"Dude, let's go out so I don't have to eat this health shit." Chad slammed the cabinet shut and spun around, the tight spirals in his ponytail bounced with energy.

The idea seemed to plant a light in Taylor's brain. Her dark eyes shot around and she beamed a bright smile. "We should! Gabriella, we have to take you out tonight, I know the perfect restaurant…"

Gabriella's soft face winced just before she shook her head, her long tendrils swung over her petite body. "Not tonight, Tay. I need to finish here and get ready for tomorrow." AKA, sit in her bed and panic for a good three hours.

The russet beauty tapped her finger to her chin pensively. This was honest; Gabriella did not want to run around New York the night with the possibility of getting hammered before her first day at work. Plus, her nerves were beginning to settle in and she was certain that the only good sitting in a restaurant would do is cause people to believe she had epilepsy. "Well," Taylor mused out loud. "Why don't we go tomorrow night? For a celebration of your first day?"

"If I survive." Gabriella mumbled under her breath and caught a glance at Troy, who was snickered amusedly again.

"Perfect!" Taylor exclaimed as though planning events, which was indeed her profession, gave her more joy than a night of hot sex with Chad.

Troy leaned against the sofa, his lower body jutting out and he crossed his ankles in an appealing way that Gabriella couldn't help but notice. She hadn't known him for very long, but her first impressions seemed to direct her into assumptions that he had been the hot-shot of his high school. There was something about him that just expelled an attractive energy, and she was certain that females fell at his feet. "You guys should go to that Italian restaurant. Connor said it was awesome last week."

Gabriella sent him a confused look, their eyes connecting for a brief moment. "You're not coming?"

She wasn't sure why her stomach had dropped in disappointment when he said the words. But then the thought of sitting alone with Taylor and Chad's sappy stares made her want rip her hair out. Not that she didn't love them together, but there was only so much "third wheel" one girl could take.

Troy's eyes sparkled with curiosity, the brilliance in his baby blues amplified. "I didn't know I was invited." His hand wrapped around the tone of his exposed bicep awkwardly.

"Well you are now," Taylor almost ordered instead of informed curtly. She turned around sharply and glared at the two boys, who held up their hands as though they were under arrest. "And don't show up in shitty, stinky sweats like you're in now. We're celebrating for Gabriella and going to a nice place."

"Dammit, so McDonald's is out of the question? I want a fucking Happy Meal." Chad grinned cheekily, his dark skin a contrast to his blinding teeth.

Troy chuckled, a sound that Gabriella wanted to find familiar. "You can skip a toy for one day, man. It's Gabriella's night." He replied just before his left eyelid closed quickly in a wink. If she was a sixteen year-old girl, Gabriella would have most likely swooned and fainted.

But instead, she smiled to herself and suddenly found that maybe tomorrow wouldn't be as scary as she believed. Or at least, she had something to look forward to while she was busting her ass all day. "Yeah, as long as I live through tomorrow, dinner sounds fantastic."

A comforting, yet sexy smile curved on Troy's lips, which eased her fearful tension ever so slightly. "Tomorrow will be great Gabriella, just wait and see." Gabriella grinned back, though the jitters never truly went away.

She desperately prayed he was right.


	3. Minute Three

**A/N: To clear up any confusion, no... even though my chapters are labeled in minutes, there are going to be more than fourteen chapters.  
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**Your reviews are amazing. Enough said.**

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He had been very, very wrong.

Gabriella should have known the day was going to be disastrous. In fact she cursed herself for not foreseeing the inevitable when she awoke that morning. Her normal routine of a steamy shower and a face wash had been approached with vibrating hands and trembles that rippled down her spine. In fact, her fingers had been shaking so violently that the coats of mascara smeared over her painted face multiple times, therefore caused her to reapply the wand until she only had slight raccoon smudges beneath her deep, amber eyes. A spiral on her head would not curl to the perfection she strived for, so she pinned the stubborn twirl in a half-up do. She had to remember how to dress herself as she stumbled into the gray, pencil skirt that cut off along her thighs. The matching blazer had managed to cover her ivory, button up blouse. She had frowned into the mirror at the messy, executive Barbie look-alike staring back at her.

Her high school self would have probably laughed mercilessly at her pitiful attempts to impress.

Gabriella scrubbed ruthlessly at the espresso stain the shape of Alabama that spilled across her blazer. Her slim fingers were frozen and numb, pruning over the tips as they moved vigorously across the fabric. The bathroom door swung easily open, experienced females on break glared at her with their authority written over their expensive suits as though she didn't belong in front of the glossy sink. The linoleum walls appeared to be closing around the intern, a claustrophobic sensation rushed through her veins as she cleaned more furiously even if the effort was worthless.

Her cab was seven and a half minutes late to the medium sized sky scraper. Once inside, the yellow-shaded wood rushed by her as she sprinted past the decorative photography that covered the walls. As she hurried into the crowded elevator, her black heels had tripped over each other and almost snapped, though she managed to save herself from misery at the last moment by clutching the closest and raging bald man. He had scowled and shoved her off as the elevator ascended like garbage, an embarrassed flushed stained her already rosy cheeks.

She sighed pathetically and chucked the soaked napkin at the taunting mirror. Unable to meet herself in the eye to view her failure, Gabriella's tiny hands placed on the porcelain of the sink. The glass-like feel beneath her touch was all too white and holy, as though she was unworthy to place her prints in the building. Her sulking gaze lifted to her reflection, her face both pale while her eyes appeared haunted, the stroke of her make up smeared and her kissable lips nude of gloss.

There was a flush that echoed off in a taunt. Gabriella shifted her stare towards the swing of the black stall and watched through the mirror as an elegant red-head strutted from the door. She was dressed almost identically to the intern, though she carried a light, confident feel to her as well. Beauty wasn't found on her, for her nose was too pointed and her body much too thin, but she raised a bemused eyebrow as though she was the snotty prom queen. "Intern, huh?" The woman asked in a scratchy voice, probably noting the cappuccino stain and crossed assumptions that she had been bustling for others' errands.

Gabriella didn't know whether to glare or blush in embarrassment. "It's my first day."

The horse-lady smirked in an authoritative way while she placed her bony hands beneath the rushing water of the sink. "Well… not _everyone _is cut out for the business."

A surge of hatred roared through her and Gabriella almost pounced as she grabbed towels to dry off with. "_Excuse_ me?" She snapped with her high school immaturity seeping through. Her tone held much more attitude than intended.

She shrugged, trailing her eyes over Gabriella's attractive figure. "I'm just saying. Sorority Sisters aren't usually… seen here. We're serious about our work." The last sentence was spoken as though Gabriella was a five year-old who didn't understand what nap time was.

This made her livid, and Gabriella gripped the edge of the sink in order to contain her animalistic instincts to pounce as the woman swished towards the exit. "Yeah? Well you can fuc…"

And the door slammed to a shut, leaving her in solitude once again. Gabriella sent daggers in the ghost of the redhead. Bitch.

But it did seem to spark Gabriella's competitive side. One, she was not a Sorority Sister, she worked her ass off in college and had spent countless nights buried in front of her laptop, typing rigorously to reach the deadline of the Boston University paper. Two, she had to belong here. She picked up her life in Boston and moved into a foreign city, there was no turning back now.

Gabriella lifted her pride as she tossed the damp-with-coffee paper towel in the trash and bypassed the mirror towards the swinging door. She frowned at the murky brown spill on her blouse, predicting that her employers would assume she couldn't dress herself. She sucked in one more breath before closing her fingers on the handle of the doorway, figuring that hiding in the lavatory would only prove her weakness.

Weaving through the cubicles was like a dream. Phones were ringing off their hooks, journalists chatting or typing at their desks. She narrowed her eyes upon each station, wondering if the prestigious writers had dumped an Espresso Truffle on their shirts the first day as well. It was difficult to grasp that she was actually among fellow artists… with a stained shirt.

"There you are. I was starting to think you fell in." A hard voice teased when Gabriella approached the desk that belonged to her. It was barren, with a cherry wood that decorated the edges and a black computer monitor.

She glanced up to take in the sight of a curvy blonde with an elegant bun and sharp, gray eyes. The woman was dressed in a pricey, feminine blazer and skirt, with her pale skin peaking through the black color while she leaned against Gabriella's workspace. She wasn't pretty, for her pancake face was childlike and her nose seemed much too small for the flatness of her cheeks. "Yeah, I was trying to get the coffee out, but I hear brown's the new black in Europe so I left it."

The woman laughed a high pitched shrill that came across as forced. "A sense of humor, we're gonna get along great Montez."

Her name was Rebecca Vickers. After Gabriella had bustled into the office of the editor that morning, she had been seated before his gigantic chair fit for a king, before the man, Frank Duncan, who looked like a bulldog with a vagina part in his black hair. The quick tour of the old building was the short walk from his office to her desk, his curt attitude showing through when he introduced her to her mentor, Rebecca. After a mumble of 'she'll show you the ropes', he once again escaped to his Virgil, probably devouring in a long-john.

Gabriella's first impression of Rebecca was that the twenty-nine year old was the nosy gossip in her high school with a hidden agenda. She knew everything about everyone and presented a show of sweetness, but could possibly be a backstabbing bitch when one wasn't looking too carefully. Since she had rushed in at nine o'clock, Gabriella learned that some photographer named Chucky came out of the closet last month, Joe what's-his-face in Sport's was caught in the break room with Jessica-who's lips on his relatively tiny cock, and that the janitor had a hidden stash of cocaine in his broom handle. It was only 12:45.

"Yeah, sorry I like... dumped your Starbucks on my shirt." Gabriella awkwardly apologized before easing herself into the uncomfortable chair below her.

"Don't worry about it Gabriella." She gave a bright white smile in encouragement. Gabriella secretly wondered if she had gone to the other journalists in the intern's bathroom absence and told everyone she slept with Frank to be hired in revenge on her spilled coffee.

"So, what do you need me to get started on?" Gabriella asked eagerly, she fought to control her giddiness that may appear naïve. Daydreams of printing in the thirties flood her mind, with her hair in ballooned curls beneath a fedora and dressed as a sleuth, jumping up from her desk screaming 'Stop the presses!'

She shook her head free of the fantasy and returned her attention to Rebecca once again. "Why don't you go make fifteen copies of these," she held out a thin stack of paper which Gabriella accepted ambitiously-despite her misfortune, she was still in a charged mood- "while I fight to contact Bloomberg and schedule an appointment."

Gabriella's jaw unhinged as though she stated she was going to be ordering pizzas with Leonardo Dicaprio. "Bloomington? You have Mayor Bloomington's private number?"

Rebecca let out a hiccup, not quite a laugh but a response to her apparent idiotic question. "No. Diego Bloomington, my masseuse," Gabriella raised an eyebrow at her and was reminded of the words in the bathroom about the Sorority Sisters. She wondered if fire-headed bitch had ever met Rebecca. "Copy machine is in the copy room."

"No shit." Gabriella mumbled under her breath once she was out of earshot. She knew she should have had more respectable thoughts towards her mentor and begin a positive relationship with her, but Gabriella was a person who valued her truth. If she really wanted to know about a blow job in the break room, she would have applied at a gossip magazine.

After wandering aimlessly for about five minutes, Gabriella finally found herself in the company of gray walls and the soft hum of the copier. Her fingers moved swiftly as a surgeon's as she pressed the appropriate buttons and became lost in her nerves. She cringed at the replay of the Starbucks dump running through her mind before she finally realized that there was another presence that just strolled through the door.

He gave her a soft nod which Gabriella returned with a kind smile. Even on her disastrous first day, she didn't want to appear pessimistic or rude. Silence once again returned in the small room except the murmur of the machine. The man ran a hand through his messy, black hair before narrowing down upon her blouse and pointed. "You uh, you got something on your shirt."

Gabriella had never wanted to shoot someone so much in her life.

She whirled around towards the pale man with an infuriated twist. "Really? I didn't notice. Thanks, I get right on that." Sarcasm bled through her tone before she spun around once again and glared at the replications that were being produced.

The man chuckled lightheartedly. "You must be the intern."

She threw her head backwards with a sour glance. "What? Is it written on my forehead or something?"

He shook his head and looked up at her with feathery shaded brown eyes. They were gentle, not accusatory or at all offended. The craters of lines in Gabriella's face faltered, and her guard shaken as he leaned against a table behind him, his dress pants folded over as he crossed his ankles. "Nah… I've just never seen you before."

For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Gabriella flushed ruby and glanced down at her scuffed heels. "Oh."

Another hearty chuckle sounded in his voice, not too deep yet not too light either. He was easy on the eyes; any female would admit it without hesitation. His hand was brought up to the medium crop of his hair, the bangs swooping over his forehead in a messy shag. "Don't worry, I was the new guy a year ago. I know how much it sucks."

She immediately felt at ease to discover that someone else had previously experienced the nightmare of a day she had just lived. An unspoken bond of companionship struck through her and she was actually grateful that he pointed out her disgusting mark of shame. "So it gets better?"

"Eventually," he paused. I'm Jason Cross, a photographer." He introduced himself just before he offered his palm for her to shake.

Gabriella gave a friendly smile and closed her slim fingers around his. "Gabriella Montez. Journalist."

They released each other and Jason smirked with slight mischief in his demeanor. "So, first day blew?"

The mockery in his cheeks proved his teases were meant for fun and not for harm. She couldn't help herself when her eyes rolled annoyingly, yet she dropped her voice as though the gossip was sneaking behind them, ready to pounce. "Blew? Try Hurricane Gabriella tore through."

"My first day, I got my tie stuck in the paper shredder," Jason commented distantly and folded the edges of whatever he was holding over nonchalantly. "Everyone has a rough first day as an intern."

She cocked a dark eyebrow. "You need a shredder for photography?"

Jason snorted. "I didn't start taking pictures til like five months ago," she frowned at the thought of fetching expensive coffee for another seven months. Gabriella was too engrossed with the nightmare of errands to realize that the careful hum of the copy machine had silenced itself. "Looks like your stuff is done."

"What? Oh!" Gabriella excitedly snatched the slightly toasty papers from their finish and spun around once again to find Jason laughing at her. "I should probably get these back to Rebecca..."

"You're partnered with Rebecca?" Jason winced as though the thought of looking at the woman was painful. But then he gave her a warming grin and Gabriella felt somewhat relaxed in his presence. "If that's the case, then you should know that if you need anything… or need to vent, I'm down the hall and to the left. Or on an assignment."

At least it was comforting to know that someone else was treating her like a human being and not a dog that would retrieve a bone when ordered to. Gabriella smiled, despite the dirty shirtl; she might have made a future friend in the copy room that first day. It had to count for something at least. "I'll remember that."

Gabriella gathered her collection of papers and side-stepped out of his way. She wandered against the narrow walls until reaching the edge of the closet-like space. Before stepping out of the solitude, Gabriella glanced backwards once more to see Jason send her a cheerful wave in parting. "Good luck for the rest of the day, Gabriella."

"Thanks!" She responded and, with more confidence that before she had gained an ally, began to march out the door into the jungle of the media…

But not before she once again tripped over her heels clumsily and listened to the sound of Jason's snickers before trudging through the rest of her embarrassment of a day.

* * *

Troy had never been one for answering questions. After the fateful night that shattered his life for the rest of time passed, he had been released from the hospital and immediately was hounded with inquisition upon inquisition: Are you okay? Do you remember anything? Does that hurt? Do you wanna talk about it? Damn Troy, how long do you think it's going to take to heal? Do you want red or white roses by the casket? You know I'm always here if you need me, right? Didn't the make up artists do a beautiful job? Can you even see the gash on the collarbone? If you feel like crying, don't be afraid to okay?

And to all these questions, Troy just wanted to shove his middle finger in front of their faces and order them to shut the fuck up.

However, as he sat in at the white table cloth with a glass of wine in his hands and engaged deeply into a conversation with the black-haired beauty, he found that he could have sat through twenty questions any day.

"So physical therapy. How'd you get into that?" Gabriella asked curiously, just before she yanked off a chunk of her French bread and popped it into her mouth. Troy smiled at the childlike behavior and allowed his gaze to shift towards her toffee toned eyes, which were amplified by the smoky effect of her make up.

The table was an even square built for four, which they easily filled. Taylor was seated on the far end with Chad-who was also attempting to play footsy with her but keep caressing Troy's calf instead- seated next to her. Gabriella was placed beside him so he had to angle his body in her direction. The restaurant was classy, not extravagant but also not a drunken bar either. He was pleasantly surprised that the evening had progressed easily, if there was any hesitation of Gabriella awkwardly attempting to fit into the group of friends, it was forgotten after the first fifteen minutes of sitting down to dinner.

Troy shrugged; his black dress shirt shifted as he adjusted his position on the squish of the chair. "I dunno, I guess I've sorta been into sports since I was a kid."

After Gabriella seemed to make it clear that her first day at the paper was less than perfect, the conversations avoided her experience at all cost. Yet, Troy was fascinated by her. Not in the disturbing, stalker, "I'm falling hopelessly in love with you" way. But the way she held herself, carried her presence with confidence, but not vainly was enthralling. He wanted to know as much as he could about this woman and quickly adapt her into the tight circle of his friends.

There was a snort from his other side before Chad practically swallowed a loaf of bread down his throat. "Into sports? Dude… you live and breathe sweat."

Taylor winced embarrassedly before placing her hand over the food he was indulging in. "Chad, we're not at Hooters. Try to behave yourself?"

His best friend frowned. "Dammit, I wanted to see some strippers."

Troy rolled his eyes and allowed them to once again land Gabriella's giggling face once again. The olive tone in her skin was amplified by the creamy white hue of her haltered dress and the intimate yellow hue of the restaurant. Her black tendrils coiled down her back elegantly. She was naturally beautiful, which only helped a charm that circled around her. "I've been playing ball since I could walk." Troy explained proudly.

"He coaches at a high school in Brooklyn." Taylor commented, before shaking her head at Chad's hungered expression.

Gabriella raised her eyebrows somewhat impressed while she circled her finger around the crystal of her wine glass. "Really? High school. Bet that's a handle."

He chuckled before taking a long sip of his wine, never once breaking eye contact with her. "Nah. The guys a great. They're pretty talented too. It's my second year coaching."

"There's no way they were like us in high school. We were the shit." Chad gnawed at the carbohydrates, bread crumbs pooling on his ruby shirt, as though he hadn't eaten in years instead of hours.

Her forehead scrunched in amusement as she curled the pillow of her gloss lips upward, damn she was hot. "You were the hot shot in Albuquerque?"

Troy felt a his –which had been more repressed now than in his earlier life- natural cockiness seep through his veins as he smirked. His body curved forward, a glitter of boosting twinkled in his blue eyes. "You could say that."

"Huh, interesting." Their stare held each other's for a long moment, and Troy felt an unfamiliar crawl of emotion creep up his back. It was a bizarre feeling, a sensation that he was so exposed to, yet he couldn't place his finger on the name of it. She shifted her gaze away from his when a waiter with a swirling mustache approached their table, holding mountains of pasta before them. Immediately, Chad dove into his ravioli like a vulture while the rest chuckled bemusedly at his immaturity. Yet the waiter, with her beady eyes that appeared to slice through all objects, locked onto the ex-basketball star with a perplexity.

"Have we-ah met before?" The waiter's thick Italian accent froze Troy's heart.

By reflex, he ducked his face away on the off chance that someone may recognize the eyes that began to catch the attention of the media so many years before. He didn't dare look up to meet the drill of Chad's stare, nor the innocently curious glance Gabriella sent him. Troy shook his head furiously, though sent the man a warm smile that could have brought anyone to their knees. "You must be mistaken."

The man opened his mouth to protest, but clamped his teeth shut once again and bowed his head. "My apologizes. Enjoy the meal, it'sd delicious."

He was indulged into his Chicken Parmigiana while they conversed for the dinner, attempting to forget the near slip up from the waiter who continued to stare suspiciously at him as he hurried with trays. Troy couldn't deny how he constantly caught glances at the black-haired beauty, absorbing all he could about the inspiring journalist as though he might get quizzed on her life at the end of the evening. He couldn't remember a time he had laughed so hard, or felt the prickle beneath his chest at her smile.

It had taken two years before Troy began to date after the her death, not including the frequent hook ups with his best friend just after the funeral and continued to this date. Yet, each woman had seemed less dimensional than the last. They were all identical and the outings became a boring routine: Dinner, a post dinner entertainment i.e. a movie or a lousy band at some smelly bar, then he'd take her back to her apartment and fuck until he got bored, then leave in the morning with an awkward wave and a phone number that usually ended up in the garbage.

It wasn't a date, and despite the hindsight in a few months from now, Troy wouldn't say he had any romantic feelings for her besides that she looked like a model and the sexiest ass he had even laid eyes on. However, it was by far the most fun he could remember with a girl who wasn't Alicia, Taylor, or…

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

Sharpay.

Troy was in mid-swallow when he glanced up to see the silver storm marching furiously in their direction. The entire restaurant seemed to rattle in her wake and waiters flashed nervous looks at the blond rage stomping as she reached the tiny table. The sparkle of her sterling colored dress almost blinded him when she tapped her Stuart Weitzman pumps impatiently. Behind her rage was her fearful boyfriend, his eyes shining as though she woman before him had just committed murder.

"Sharpay? What the hell is going on?" Chad spilled chunky ravioli out of his mouth in shock of the Ice Queen's arrival. Troy shot a look at Gabriella, who either narrowed her eyes in slight confusion, or she was squinting from the glimmer of Sharpay's ensemble. Instead of letting perplexity cross him as the others, Troy leaned back in his chair and grinned at Sharpay's obnoxious behavior. Whatever had her so worked up would be amusing, so he might as well get comfortable.

Troy met Sharpay a year after he moved from his demons in Los Angeles to New York City. It was about after a month of schooling at NYU following his transfer. He had been in a hurry to attend an interview at a gym for a part time employment and was in desperation for a cab. She had been leaning up against her expensive limo outside a vast hotel, smoking a cigarette and dressed in fur, watching in amusement as he failed to retrieve transportation. Finally, she pitied him-or found him ungodly attractive and wanted to screw him, he would never know the truth- enough to offer him a ride and her number. He never called, but they ran into each other at Starbucks one morning and she was quickly adopted into his social circle. She was a complete bitch, but she was also one of Troy's favorite people.

"You tell me fuck face," she cursed loudly, enough for the employees to send hesitated looks at each other. Her brown eyes were swirling with pure hatred as she placed two hands on her hips and appeared as though she was struggling to keep from attacking the group. "You guys go out to dinner and don't invite me? That's rich, really rich."

"Sharpay, we were just taking Gabriella out after her first day. It's not a big deal." Taylor defended weakly, obviously used to Sharpay's immature rants and didn't seem to be bothered by the vein that was pulsating out of her creamy neck.

"Um, how hard was it to pick up the fucking phone to call me? Zeke told me." Sharpay exclaimed as though she was robbed of prom queen. Troy struggled to keep his laughter from escaping his mouth.

"Awe Zeke, you weren't supposed to tell her!" Chad joked which only earned him a plummet of her clutch upon his afro-covered head. "Shit Evans! I'm kidding!"

"Relax Shar," Troy stretched his legs under the table and pressed his back against the comforts of his chair, giving her his notorious grin. "Just pull up a chair alright? No need to get pissed off."

"Fuck off, Bolton." She threatened with her snakelike eyes just as Zeke hurried to fetch a chair.

He felt something warm on the cotton of his shirt and glanced down to see a petite hand resting on his forearm. Troy turned his head to the side and leaned closer to Gabriella's coaxing face. "Is she always this…?" Her silky voice trailed off while he could still feel the effects of her cool breath on his cheek.

"Insane? Nah, she's tame today. You've gotta get used to it if you're gonna hang around us Montez." He nudged her elbow teasingly, finding that touching her was addictive. Even if it was a delicate skin brush, he still found himself craving their connection on her bare arm.

Gabriella grinned and shook her cascading curls. "Who says I want to hang out with you? They're okay, but you kind of smell."

Troy dropped his fork to the cushion of his pasta and placed his palm against his built chest as though he had been wounded. "Ouch. Straight to the ego."

She giggled a sweet laugh before shifting her elongated legs to his direction. "It's not that hard to miss."

Their stare was interrupted when he once again remembered there were other people around them. "Excuse me! Can we get two more menus here? Some of us haven't eaten," Sharpay's high voice ordered a slightly perplexed server and flicked her hand as though the Italian was made of dust in her air and then drilled her daggers back to the quad. "Thanks to certain people who don't invite their friends to dinner with them!"

"It's really not a big deal, sweetheart." Zeke soothed while rubbing where her halter cut off on her bare back.

"I didn't invite Alicia. So you're not that left out." Troy compensated and was too oblivious to notice Gabriella jerk her head around so fast she could have received whiplash.

"Don't compare me to _her_." Sharpay snapped with a vengeance, if her glare was dangerous before, it became deadly.

"Why not?" Troy shot, his cyan orbs beginning to darken with a slight midnight storm. "Stop treating her like shit, she's our friend too."

"Do not place me in the same category as the whore."

Sharpay and Alicia. The two were similar in the way that both were too headstrong for their own good. However, that only brought a competitive and hostile nature in which they despised each other. It seemed ever since they first laid eyes on the other, a raging fire fueled and instigated a war between the females. Although Troy was close with Taylor, Sharpay and Alicia were by far the two most important girls in his life, apart from his mother and the woman buried beneath a mighty willow tree in Los Angeles. He couldn't survive without either, but he prayed daily that maybe they would put aside their differences and actually get along.

"Don't be a bitch to her." Troy hissed back, his protectiveness for his best friend heightening while threatened.

"Then stop fucking her…"

"Stop it!" Taylor scolded in a low voice, her dark skin generating an angry heat from across the table. Her knuckles were almost white as she clenched a jagged knife and her hollow eyes ping-ponged from the two arguing. "This dinner is about Gabriella. Stop acting like five year-olds about someone who's not even here!"

Chad patted her wrist comfortingly, or maybe it was to be sure that he wouldn't be the one stabbed with her weapon. "Tay's right guys."

Sharpay pouted in her seat yet refused to state an apology. Troy once again remembered the girl beside him, and turned to see her face was slightly ashen and her inviting mouth a straight line. Guilt immediately seeped over him, knowing that Taylor had made a valid point and that he had just made a fool of himself in front of this stunning woman. "I'm sorry, Gabriella…"

"Um, don't worry about it," she replied in a small voice and forced a smile. Troy mentally kicked himself over and over again for acting like a dick in front of her. "So Sharpay, I wanna see one of your shows."

"You shouldn't have said that." Chad mumbled under his breath and Troy flickered a smile, even if he was mortified by his behavior.

For the first time all evening, the blond became exhilarated at her favorite topic, herself. "You _have _to see it. It's fabulous, of course." She boasted with a toss of her sunshine tresses behind her solar kissed shoulder.

Taylor seemed to momentarily forget the fight as well, and brightened up swiftly. "Oh! We'll all go! Soon!"

"About damn time you went," Sharpay reached out and swiped a piece of bread from the maroon basket and ripped a piece into her mouth. "I want more flowers than Connie this time."

"Great. I can't wait to see it." Gabriella looked at Troy once again, sending him a message that he couldn't quite read, yet he found the mystery of her coffee eyes engaging.

But the moment was short lived when she ducked her head once again and returned to her pasta, much more silent than she was previous to the argument. Troy sighed sadly, before rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt once again and re-commenced his dinner. For the rest of the evening, his mind went over and over again how stupid he was for acting immature with Sharpay previously, even when Gabriella once again returned to her normal, bubbly self.

What he didn't realize, however, was that in the heat of the spats, no one informed her who Alicia truly was. Or wasn't.


	4. Minute Four

**A/N: I just want to give a huge thank you to everyone who is supporting me in this story. Really, I'm thrilled that people are taking to it. You're reviews are great, I know the plot can be a bit confusing but hopefully things clear up. I've worked insanely hard on my writing over my break, so it's amazing to see that people are taking notice and just reading in general. Thank you so much.

* * *

**

It was like a ballet to him. A kind of dance that belonged to its own beat that only the few gifted truly grasped. The rhythm streamed through minds like an addictive drug, replaying over and over broken-record style. Squeaks and squawks provided the soundtrack to the performance. Cries of desperation rattled and soared, pleads for one chance to prove themselves. Sweat streamed down at the "dancer's" feet, blood of determination concocted to the mix. Spheres imitated canons as they flew over heads, and those worthy rushed to snatch them as though they were the Elixir of Life.

It was beautiful.

A shrill of a piercing whistle cut through the air and immediately, the echoing sound of the bouncing basketball was silenced. Nets stopped swishing, feet halted their squeaks, and the yells fell dead in the yellow hue of the gymnasium. The players froze in their spots like statues; sweat pooled upon the hardwood in their shadows and turned to the coach who casually strolled onto the court as though he was born beneath the basket.

"Ball." Troy's voice boomed loudly as the clipboard he was holding clattered to the ground. The teenagers glanced warily at each other and he inwardly chuckled at their fear of the authoritative figure before them. A brunette hesitated before he tossed him the object that had brought him so much joy.

He felt the rigid surface beneath the tips of his fingers and breathed deeply, as though he was reconnecting with a past lover he hadn't seen in five years. A power rushed through him, like a surge of adrenaline at the so familiar sensation of a life that was all but forgotten. Whispers of the ghostly cheers swirled around his ears; the phantom of condensation on his skin induced a shiver down his spine. If he closed his eyes, he could envision his scarlet uniform on his slick body while the screams of "BOLTON, BOLTON!" heightened his adrenaline, his feet at the line at the State championship...

And then the flashback was gone, a dust in the wind when Troy returned back to the gymnasium with a shot of his eyelids.

Chad wasn't lying at dinner: He lived, he breathed, and he survived off of the court. At four years old, he had joined a tiny-tots team in his hometown of Albuquerque. But unlike most toddlers who scampered around the hardwood attempting to see if they could fall through the cracks, Troy was the gifted kid who truly _loved_ the game. His childhood rolled on, and a routine of hours upon hours in front of the hoop developed. Entering high school, his popularity skyrocketed after the student body discovered his talents. Yet it was so much more to him than winning prom king. Basketball was everything to him. He was quickly crowned captain of the Albuquerque East High School Wildcats his junior year under the direction of his father and was joined by Chad his senior year, helping to earn the team three conference championships and two state titles. He swiftly caught the watchful eyes of college scouts, and was offered several scholarships to the University of Los Angeles.

Coaching was the closest he could get to the court after he sacrificed his Bruins jersey at UCLA that inevitable evening his sophomore year. He had fought through basketball-withdrawals for two years after he moved to New York before he finally snapped and raced across town to find some sort of connection. He was hired at the building he was standing beneath and quickly raised the team's skills in only two years.

The Warriors and their coach had a different relationship than most adult to teenagers. Although Troy was in charge and forced them down to business when their distractions interfered with their game, he was also their friend. Someone they could talk to about their issues and handed advice to those who needed it.

The kind of guy he had needed that balming April day that changed his life.

"You guys call that defense?" Dressed in his navy basketball shorts and cut off shirt, Troy strutted towards the team, effortlessly spinning the ball upon the pad of his pointer finger. The gym was sticky with a lingering summer heat as his eyes darted across each player's face, all fearful that he was going to spring into a rant. "What do you think, Garcia?"

The head of a tanned boy rose, his eyes so dark they could have given Gabriella's a run for their money. His black hair was spiked in a confident manner, yet no wave of cockiness hit him. Sweat dribbled down his bare chest, defined by rep upon rep in the weight room. Troy inwardly smiled, knowing that the Hispanic before him was the version of him in high school. The boy, Leonardo Garcia, shrugged as he met Troy's stare with a small smile curling on his wet lips. "I think it was the shit, Coach."

Troy smirked just before he chucked the ball in the seventeen year old's direction. "Damn straight it was. Keep it up and the Raider's asses are going to be killed this November."

Rounds of wolf whistles scattered through the now relaxed teenagers that they could take on their rivals this season. "Hell yeah we will!" Yells of excitement filled the black and scarlet colors of the gym.

He took the opportunity to raise the orange sphere in his hands and took a flawless jump shot, easily watching as the ball swished through the net. "Alright, get out of here and savor the last days of freedom. I don't want to see your faces anymore." Troy joked and referenced the few weeks of summer vacation the boys had left.

Chatter immediately erupted when Troy sprung them free, talk of what party was occurring that night and who was bringing the booze- Troy forced himself to ignore the comments, for he knew from personal experience that beer pong was a teenager's best friend- filled the cracks of the field house. He walked noisily over to the wooden bleachers and sat beside his scarlet gym bag, one that had been with him since his freshman year as a Wildcat, and dug out a dirty towel that held the wretched scent of perspiration.

"Hey Bolton, when are you gonna come party with us?" A towering guard asked with his bulky, brown limbs clinging to a clear water bottle. The team began to circle towards the bleachers as well, gathering their belongings and grasping any chance to speak with the popular coach.

Troy smirked and snapped the towel in the direction of his fan. "When you turn twenty-one."

"Awe dude… don't be like that." Another called, before Troy rolled his eyes.

"Why would I want to hang with a bunch of babies anyways?" He mocked before standing and zipping up his bag simultaneously.

"Cuz you don't have a life." The giant tree-boy- nicknamed "The Hammer" because his penis was the size of the Statue of Liberty- insulted.

Troy frowned and opened his mouth to rebut when a sudden feminine voice boomed through the gym and silenced the teenagers. "You're right, he doesn't."

He lifted his head to meet the unmistakable sound of cheap heels clicking against the hardwood. A natural reaction of his eyes brightening to a sparkling sapphire occurred, and he couldn't contain the lazy smile that plastered across his cheeks. She strutted past the free throw line and low whistles gravitated around her as she passed the ridiculously horny teenage boys.

"Damn, girl," The Hammer whispered loudly. Drool was practically pouring down his chin. "I'd tap that."

Troy shot him a glare at his immaturity. "I want everyone out of my sight or your asses will be on the bench all season for not knowing how to respect elder women." he suddenly felt a slam of pain against his side and turned to see a pair of emerald eyes narrowed dangerously at him. "Ow!"

"You call me old again, Bolton, and I'll put your ass in jail for insulting a lawyer." Alicia threatened and popped her hip dressed in black pants out in anger.

"You're not a lawyer yet," Troy reminded her which only caused him to receive another whack with her leather purse. "Jesus! Stop doing that!"

The Hammer and Leo snorted. "Dude, Bolton's getting his ass whipped!"

"GET OUT!" Troy roared and pointed towards the door. The amused team snickered once more before sprinting towards the black, double doors before Troy could pelt them with basketballs. He rolled his eyes annoyingly before spinning to see Alicia beaming with triumph. "Because of you my players don't respect me."

"Shit happens." Alicia shrugged the accusation off.

The fading sound of the commotion ceased and Troy marched over to the bleachers to sling his bag over his arm. Once he was certain there were no intruders of their conversation, he glanced back at his best friend, still dressed in work clothes and her crinkle-less hair flowed over shoulders collectively. "Not that I don't love when you jack up teenage boy's testosterone levels, but what are you doing here?" He asked, even though he was slightly sure he knew of the answer, even if it was not a positive one.

"Weeeellll…" She dragged out almost innocently-he knew it was anything but with the raging fumes that radiated from her pale skin. Her nude lips were shining with gloss beneath the bright lights. "I had a meeting with the detective for a DA case like seven blocks from here, so I thought I'd pop by and bless you with my presence."

Troy rolled his eyes before they began to fall into step towards the exit of the gymnasium. "Oh gag me." He glanced around one finally time after reaching the side door that would lead to the overcast afternoon. Once stepping outside, he immediately felt the warm air swirl around his exposed arms and slowed to allow Alicia to keep up in her three inch business heels. The vast, gray New York skyscrapers loomed in the distance beneath a fog, a reminder of his current life instead of the fantasy he had been living in the past two hours of summer practice.

Alicia glared with an obvious aggression. "I might have to after a phone call I got from Taylor yesterday."

Ah. And the rant fest starts.

Alicia Moretti was a bitch. It was as simple as that. Troy would be the first to admit his best friend had an edge to her that most girls despised. She was a power female, which attracted males like a siren's call for an intense one-night-fuck of unforgettable blow jobs and flexible limbs, he would know. She knew what she wanted and hated losing, which was what made her an excellent lawyer. But in some twisted form, Troy loved her.

Love was an interesting phrase, just like the complicated emotions that tied to their relationship. He was not in love with her, but he did not consider her blood related either. Troy was obviously physically attracted to her; she was fucking gorgeous and had the body of a gymnast that could bend and twist in impossible ways that every guy dreamed of.

The sex with Alicia had originally begun out of Troy's angst and anger for the injustice set upon him; therefore it was propelled by an intensity that was more incredible than anything he had ever dreamed of. As the sharp pierce of the his fiancée's death began to dull to an aching heartbreak, their sensuality did not follow suit. It was wrong to caress their skin, to bite their kisses, to sweat their lust after the initial shock of her… death, Troy knew this. But he was a man, a man with needs and Alicia had given him a brief remembrance of what it felt like to be _wanted_, as his now buried fiancée had once given him.

And she felt the same, she promised him when they first began her attraction was no further than a steamy screw.

"Oh yeah?" Troy snorted with bemusement, practically seeing the smoke rush out of her earlobes. "What'd she say?"

He felt daggers drill into the side of his cheek as they continued to stroll in the direction of the city, his eyes scanning for any sign of a taxi or bus stop. "What she should have said was how much you're a dickhead for promising I'd go to the Barbie's little musical."

"It's good for you to get out of your crypt once in awhile," Troy responded, referencing her apartment that she had been hidden in for preparations of her Bar exam. "Sunlight is good for you."

"But her shitty performance is not." Alicia growled, which caused Troy to shoot her a look of irritation.

"Sharpay's good, admit it." He snapped.

"Then go shove your dick in her if you love her so much." She mumbled grudgingly, and Troy considered pushing her into the dumpster that was settled beside a white bench they passed.

"Oh fuck Alicia, stop it. You've been antisocial for the past like… three weeks," he stopped and turned to her, allowing his famous eyes persuade hers by darting desperately across her face as his palms cupped her shoulders gently. The hard cheeks weakened as she gazed up at him. "Please Alicia, you haven't even met Gabriella yet."

The inspiring lawyer sighed annoyingly, the soft wind playing with her dark hair while Troy rubbed tenderly over her formed biceps, yet her eyes flickered a tinge of bitterness at the sound of another woman's name. The cloudy sky caused a grey aura around her pasty skin and never once removed her sight from him. "So?"

An unfamiliar, pang of resentment pulsed in his heart at the uncaring tone of her voice in reference to his new friend. "Please Alicia," Troy begged with as much emotion he could muster. "For me."

Alicia ripped her shoulders away from him and took a defining step backwards, her displeasure shot in the form of a scowl. "Blonde bimbo doesn't say a word to me, got it?"

Troy smiled in triumph before clamping his hands together with a low clap. "I'll pray for a miracle."

* * *

The first time Gabriella met Sharpay Evans, she was flaunting around her "Welcome to New York" party beneath the ass-shaped sign, bragging about how incredible of an actress she was. The second encounter, she had been seated at a restaurant and the woman came barging in, screaming about not getting invited to a simple diner and demanded an apology. The third sight of Sharpay was standing outside a cozy coffee shop three blocks away from her apartment with a cigarette hanging delicately off her lips in an appealing way that was almost seductive. Most would find Sharpay's behavior both annoying and repulsive.

Gabriella thought she had spunk.

"Ugh, took you long enough." Sharpay complained as she leaned up against the evergreen frame of the café. She was dressed in black, skinny jeans and a teal top with rhinestone-chunks strapped flawlessly to her heels.

Gabriella swiftly walked to meet her, immediately slammed with the reek of used tobacco. She brushed the fuzz off her yellow shirt before lifting her head to watch Sharpay take another drag. "I'm not that late," Gabriella commented, glancing at her imaginary watch. "Tay said to meet at five."

Sharpay rolled her eyes. "Yeah well, I was stuck listening to her play Mother Teresa while you were 'not being late'. All the kindergarten shit made me sick, so I needed a smoke."

A week had past since their last encounter at the restaurant that evening. The internship seemed to be looking up- she hadn't managed to spill anyone's coffee since the first day and also hadn't quit either. The moments she hadn't spent running errands for the highly skilled employees, she was quickly becoming close friends with Jason Cross. Progress was made, even if she still was a lowly intern/ trained dog.

The blonde threw her cigarette bud to the gum-splattered sidewalk and crushed it with her heel before turning to Gabriella and cocked a plucked eyebrow. "You coming or what?"

From what Gabriella had gathered from her countless conversations with Taylor, the coffee shop seemed to be the favorite among the group she had gotten to know this past week. Gabriella wasn't quite sure if they had copied the idea from Friends or if it was just coincidence, but as she stepped in the caramel-colored walls, she glanced over her shoulder just in case Joey came barging in with his man-purse or to be sure that Gunther wasn't stalking Rachel in a corner somewhere.

There was a dip in the floorboards in the center of the café with a cash register to her immediate left. A squishy, russet couch was backed against the right wall with a cherry-wooded table sitting just before it and a miniature sofa formed an L shape. Scatters of circular tables outlined the perimeter. The employees were bustling around, yet the atmosphere was calming and soothing, much like the shop she worked in back in Boston.

Taylor was sitting at one of the tiny tables, swirling a mixer around her ceramic mug of java with no apparent path. Her dark eyes were skimming the propped New York Times and her leg was tangled around the other lazily. At the sound of Sharpay's obnoxious pumps, Taylor lifted her short bob and beamed a smile when she saw who had joined them. "Hey Gabs!"

Sharpay didn't even bother to offer Gabriella to choose her place and sat down with a huff. Gabriella inwardly rolled her eyes before taking the empty spot beside her. "Reading the competition?" Gabriella joked as she nodded to the paper.

"Just scoping. You want anything?" Taylor asked quickly, though she didn't wait for the answer before she raised a strong hand and waved. "Kelsi! Kels, come here for a sec!"

Gabriella swiveled her head around to take view of the petite girl shuffling towards them. Her creamy face was in the shape of a heart and her cropped, copper hair was tossed into a messy ponytail. She walked in a pine colored apron and her eyes shined like hazel moons behind a pair of thick rimmed glasses.

The girl couldn't have been over twenty one, but she smiled shyly at the three some before adjusting the tray she was holding. "Hi girls." She caught Gabriella's gaze and turned away, blushing timidly at the newcomer.

"Kels, this is Gabriella. She moved from Boston a week or so ago. Gabs, this is our friend Kelsi Neilson." Taylor explained while Sharpay picked unresponsively at the follicles of her nails.

Gabriella gave her a warm smile. "I used to work at a coffee place too," she candidly stated, Kelsi's body relaxing at the acceptance. "It sucked."

Kelsi shrugged. "NYU doesn't pay for itself," her petite hands searched her pockets until she flipped open a skinny notepad and removed a pencil from the makeshift chopsticks in her do. "What can I get you?"

After ordering a vanilla latte and listening to Sharpay request a blended frappichino, Kelsi sent one final simper before quietly escaping back to the banging cups and brewing mugs. "She waits on us all the time, that's how we met." Taylor explained before bringing her coffee up to her lips and taking a long sip.

"Yeah, yeah, she's fantastic. Can we get back to important matters now?" Sharpay flipped her luscious locks over her shoulder and shot a glare at Taylor, her light brown orbs almost frosty with hatred. "Like how you've invited the slut to my show?"

Taylor groaned and gently folded The Times into a neat pile. "Can we not do this now? You've been at this for like, five days. I can't take it much longer."

Enrage surged over Sharpay's face, her pointed features quickly mutated into ice as she glared mercilessly at her friend. For a brief moment, Gabriella felt a ripple of fear that she was going to snap Taylor's chocolate neck in half. She felt a tiny pang in her stomach, taking a short guess of who they were discussing but prayed desperately that her assumptions were false. "Then tell whore princess to fuck off and move back to LA with all the California skanks where she belongs!"

Her natural curiosity suddenly skyrocketed. The journalist in her acted as a parasite and swooped through her veins. "Someone please tell me what's going on."

Without removing her daggers from Taylor, Sharpay coolly opened her glossed lips while sarcasm hissed out like venom. "Taylor and Troy decided to invite my best friend Alicia Moretti."

Gabriella tried not to wince. She was right after all.

She couldn't truly explain what upset her so much at the thought of the information revealed at the Italian restaurant that previous week. Sure, Troy Bolton was ungodly attractive and charming and sweet and sexy and tender and strong and funny and… okay he was a whole lot of perfect but Gabriella didn't have any romantic feelings for him. So why would it bother her to discover he had a girlfriend? Why had she mentally moped when the name was slipped? Then again, it was completely normal for a woman her age to be disappointed when discovering someone who looked like sex in human form was a taken man.

Maybe what upset her so much was that he didn't _act _taken. Generally, there was an unconscious vibe that a guy sent off when he was off limits. And Troy didn't send that towards her. Instead, she received whispering winks, tingling touches, and sparkling smiles. How could he be in a relationship?

"What's so wrong with that?" Gabriella asked bitterly, even if she secretly supported the drama queen, whether she was deranged or not.

Sharpay's eyes finally removed themselves from Taylor as she snorted sarcastically. "What's wrong with that? The bitch has no right to take five steps near me, let alone come watch me."

"Sharpay," Taylor warned darkly. "She has as much of a right as anyone else."

Her painted nails slammed against the surface of the table with a vengeance. "He fucking knows I hate her! He's doing it to piss me off and you know it!"

Gabriella was becoming dangerously attracted to the mystery of this unknown woman, as though it was some seducer coaxing her towards an awaiting bedroom. She was so focused on the feuding women that she didn't even notice Kelsi had returned silently with their drinks. It wasn't until she felt a violent burn on her right hand that a cardboard cup was slipped beneath it.

"I don't get it," Gabriella announced as though her ideas on the matter were important, before she slowly closed around the latte and allowed the warmth of the liquid seep through her palms. Both Taylor and Sharpay shifted their eyes quizzically, Sharpay completely forgetting she had just been served her drink. "Troy should be allowed to bring his girlfriend if he wants."

Silence cast over them, and Gabriella's gaze bounced from female to female, who both looked as though someone ordered them to write a ten page essay on the theory of a slug's reproductive system. Gabriella narrowed her eyes in confusion at the perplexity of the two, before a howl began.

At first she didn't recognize the sound, but then the sight of Sharpay's face contorting into pure laughter. The dry, yet fierce, cackles were almost ear-splitting, and several other costumers sent their table scrutinizing looks as she pounded her hand upon the surface uncontrollably. "Alicia… Troy's girlfri… that's fucking priceless."

Okay, now she was starting to get pissed. What the hell was going on? Was she being mocked? Sharpay was practically doubling on the floor; she was anything but laughing. There was an underlying hatred that was painfully obvious to see to any bystander in the café. Her sunshine locks were sprawled across the table, and her slender body was curved in clear hysterics. Gabriella slowly began to reach for her black purse to grab her cell phone and call the cops before she finally sucked in hot breaths to calm herself, her petite chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her scandalous top. "What…"

"Alicia is Troy's best friend. They're not dating," Taylor explained and raised her dark eyebrows at Sharpay as though she was repulsed by her reaction. "Are you finished?"

"I don't get it," Gabriella stared confusedly at her drink, suddenly wishing desperately it was a shot of something stronger than vanilla. "Sharpay sai…"

"The two screw like they're dating. Whore." Sharpay rolled her eyes before her tongue searched for the straw that led to her milky beverage.

A brick crashed to the floor in Gabriella's stomach. The perfect image of the sexy man she had met suddenly shattered, broken glass spilled around and pooled at the bottom of her feet. A familiar sensation of disappointment rushed through her veins- the same one she felt when she discovered that Santa and the Easter Bunny were about as real as a three headed unicorn. He had been so real, so honest. To her, he seemed to be the perfect friend to depend on if something went terribly wrong. He was smart, funny, sexy…

And apparently a friend with benefits.

She couldn't be mad. Millions of people were in relationships without commitment. It was a part of life. Yet, in the same light, Gabriella had thought so highly of him, not quite like other guys she had been acquainted with. Her respect for him crumbled slightly, and the guy who had seemed so amazing was suddenly just like every other slobbery pig in this city. Gabriella's face fell with distaste, as though Troy himself was smirking back at her through the ripples of caffeine beneath her fingers. "Oh."

Taylor's eyes suddenly widened, her strong arms suddenly jutted out and crossed in frenzy. "No, no, no! Gabriella… it's not like that, don't think poorly upon him."

She didn't want to, but as the words had slipped out of Sharpay's mouth, they suddenly clung to his image and tainted him. Just as she had the night Alicia was revealed, Gabriella felt a lump swell in her throat, one she could associate with a tiny green-eyed monster. "I always thought that friends with benefits were like having your cake and eating it too." Gabriella shrugged, not looking at either one of them.

"It's not his fault." Sharpay muttered before slurping on her straw innocently.

Taylor enclosed her palm around Gabriella's wrist, almost inducing a burning sensation on the division of her lemon-colored long sleeve and the silky surface of her skin. "Gabriella," she boldly stated her name with such a defiance and conviction that the aspiring journalist had no choice but to remain frozen in her tanned seat. The power of her stare was so overwhelming that the bustling of the busy coffee shop was silenced under her wake. "Don't make assumptions; he's not a bad person."

The midnight coils that twirled down her back flipped as she shook her head, ignoring the café orders that faded in the background of the java shop. "I never said he was." She shifted her line of vision away from the persuading eyes.

"I've known you since we were fourteen Gabs, I know that look," The curve of Taylor's bob sashaying back and forth. "You don't understand. Troy, he has a past."

A spark ignited deep within her heart as she slowly raised her gaze to once again meet her best friend. It was a tiny flame of curiosity that began to flicker with longing. A brew of inquisitions began to swell beneath the walls of her stomach, the natural reaction that drove her towards the profession of her dreams. Gabriella swallowed and stiffly straightened her back on the decorative rungs of her chair. "What do you mean, he has a past?"

Sharpay rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue annoying. "It's not rocket science, Montez. She means exactly that."

The NYU graduate glared at the blonde before turning back to Gabriella. "He has a few," Taylor hesitated and traced the outside of the now empty dish with her nail. "Skeletons in his closet."

She cocked an eyebrow, excitement of the mystery hammering wildly in her chest. "Skeletons?" Gabriella questioned skeptically. "What? Is he like, some psychopathic murderer or something?" The joke was only barely out of humor, for her forced laugh was derived from her nerves.

Taylor glanced across the dark surface of the table and caught Sharpay's wary eye. The exchange did not go unnoticed by the odd one out and Gabriella's heart jumped into her throat at the conformation of disaster in his previous life. Sharpay opened her mouth, and for the first time since she had met the obnoxious drama queen, the star was at a loss for words.

"No," Taylor replied slowly. "He's not."

She chewed on her bottom lip like an addict about to receive a whiff of heroine. "Then, what happened?"

For a brief moment, she thought they were going to crack. Taylor and Sharpay both stared at each other, silently discussing whether the information was allowed to be revealed. Gabriella couldn't feel her fingers as they flexed beneath the table, fidgeting with restlessness and anticipation. Her jean clad legs were jittering, and it took all her strength to remain seated in the stillness.

Finally, Sharpay crashed her bony back against the seat once again and shrugged. "I'm not gonna waste my time talking about fucking Troy Bolton. If you wanna know, pester him." She snatched her frappachino once again and sucked violently; leaving it blatantly obvious that Troy would not reveal to her what the secret was but escaped trouble none the less.

But she would not quit.

The wheels in her brain were cranking at cosmic speeds that almost blew off the top of her skull. The truth was Gabriella's obsession. The day she first scurried around with her Princess notebook at five years old was the same day that she dedicated her entire life to testing the validity of every situation thrown at her. She drank in the facts like nourishment and absorbed every bit of information -useless or not- like a detective on a murder scene. The Tribute accepted her internship as a reporter because of her passion, her determination never to leave the mystery unsolved.

Whatever the skeleton in Troy's closet was, Gabriella would stop at nothing to discover exactly what was rotting in his past. Count on it.


	5. Minute Five

**A/N: Before you begin, I feel like I need to address something that I feel I did not touch very well in the first chapter. I understand this story is not like what I have written before –it's a lot less action and as some would view as boring. The response I have received leads me to believe people are much less intereseted. **

**I'm sorry some of you feel that way, but I think I have failed as an author warning you about this. As you approach this story, you need to view it with a mature attitude. And I don't mean mature that Troy and Gabriella are going to screw every ten lines in intricate ways. That's not me. I mean mature that you have to understand that this story is designed to make you think. Its draw is to reveal Troy's past. If this type of story is not your idea of good, I'm not offended at all. There are some amazing stories right now that DO have characters blowing up or doing it in creative positions. The beauty of fanfiction is to read what you want to read, and I am not offended at all if you don't like this story.**

**That being said, I also do want to address something else. Although I do appreciate the support, I'm hurt that some people feel they have to pretend as though they enjoy my writing to make me happy. I've said all along that I do not want people reading my work unless they truly like it. However, it's really hurt me that people feel that they're going to claim they like my work and will read when they know they won't because they think it will make me feel good. I sure as hell know I'm not one of the best on this site, and this story is far from perfect, but I'm trying. I'm really, really trying and please, if you do me any justice or care, don't pretend as though you like my work. I came off my hiatus because I have a passion. I love to write, and trying to fake enjoying my stories just… it hurts like hell. Please. I'm not offended if you don't like it, but just don't pretend.  
**

**And for those of you who do enjoy this, I hope you like this chapter. Thanks for reading, it means the world.

* * *

**

Any doubt that Taylor and Sharpay had been lying the previous week was smashed the second the brunette glided into the room with Troy at her shoulder.

It didn't take a neurosurgeon to figure out; they were indeed, sleeping together. It was painfully obvious by the way she floated into the living room of the McKessie-Danforth apartment, guided by his hand delicately resting on the small of her back. There was a luminous glow off her creamy skin that only lust could power with. Her emerald eyes sparkled with delight, and she occasionally shot a glance in his direction as the best friends were greeted. Each look cast almost held a secret, like it was a private joke that only they shared. They moved almost as one-when he scratched the back of his neck, she fidgeted with her fingers. The angle of their bodies was directed towards each other, pelvises calling for connection, for penetration that seemed to be familiar.

Within the first thirty seconds of being in the same air as Alicia Moretti, Gabriella knew she was going to be siding with Sharpay in this war.

She was beautiful, in a surprising way with her arms that were thin, yet toned with muscle beneath her black blouse. They matched the same, powerful shape of her calves in the white skirt. She was Italian; it was undeniable with the shape of her face and rich hair color. The woman wasn't tall, yet she wasn't vertically challenged either and had a good two inches over Gabriella. She walked with a swagger that proved she was confident, not cocky, and very proud.

Much like Gabriella herself.

"Gabs, hellooo… Gabs wake up!"

"What?" Gabriella stupidly lifted her head from the couch she was snuggled into and took in the sight of Taylor hovering over her with a curious expression on her face. Her short hair was pulled elegantly into a partial ponytail, with her brown and pink dress flowing around her quads. Gabriella forced herself out of the stare down she had begun when Alicia first maneuvered into the doorway a minute before, and was now being engulfed by a hug from Chad.

Taylor glanced back at the entry way with her eyebrow furrowed at Troy's illuminated face as he performed an intricate manly handshake with Chad. She then turned back to the aspiring journalist and with a questioning expression. "We're gonna get going soon, Shar will kill us if we walk in late." She slowly stated, which Gabriella responded with an all too quick nod.

"Yeah, sorry I just zoned out there." Gabriella rose in her petite body, tugging at the bottom of her gray, pencil tight dress. A black blazer covered her exposed shoulders by the strapless cloth, matching with the dark thigh-high socks tucked into the shiny pumps. Her hazy glare once again shifted towards the "couple" who just joined the wait to leave for Sharpay's show.

She couldn't help but scrutinize the woman. It wasn't that she was ravenously jealous and wanted to dig her claws into her neck and hope she never survived. What bothered her was how she managed to capture the guy so easily. How had she held his blue eyes for such periods of time? What attracted his sculpted frame to her figure? How had she managed to constantly tangle her body with his?

Troy had a beam on his face when he turned his head, his cerulean irises bright and shining as they landed upon Gabriella. And as though the reaction was not controlled by her, she immediately met his grin and felt a heat rush through her body –an effect that those baby blues produced for all who gazed into them. He suddenly broke away from Alicia and crossed the room; Gabriella couldn't help but allow her eyes to trail approvingly over his gray washed jeans and black button up rolled at the sleeves.

"Hey!" He greeted with excitement in his voice that Gabriella couldn't help but giggle at. He allowed his gaze to shift down her body with a cheeky smirk, completely obvious in checking her out. "Damn… you look hot."

Gabriella couldn't help but roll her eyes at the bluntness. "Hey yourself."

"Well don't you look like you walked out of GQ." Taylor mocked.

"Oh fuck off McKessie," Troy shot back without looking at her. "I wanted to look good."

There was a brief moment of silence that Gabriella couldn't explain. He just stood there, normally with his hands dug deep into the depths of his clean pockets and his eyes sparkling sapphire. The draw to him was almost overpowering, like she was hypnotized by his presence, whether Taylor was ping pong-ing between them or not. She felt a swell of something familiar in her chest, a sensation she could only compare to the tingles that ran down her spine when she was gazed upon her junior prom, or when she tasted her first kiss.

And then it was gone like a gust of wind when the stranger swaggered to them.

They turned when Alicia approached, with Zeke and Chad on her towering heels. She had a giant smile on her face, but her eyes were not as deceiving. She sized Gabriella up, though she was not much taller than her. But Gabriella was anything but innocent, for she was mentally trying to point out her few flaws. Like how one ear dangled a millimeter longer than the other and she had a black mole that sat in the right curl of her chin.

Troy cleared his throat through the heavy air and nodded towards the woman. "Gabriella, this is Alicia Moretti. Alicia, this is Gabriella Montez."

If anyone besides the two women had noted the tension, they kept it hidden as Gabriella bowed her head. "Hi." She said somewhat forcefully

Alicia held the bright grin she was sporting, one that appeared genuine. "Nice to finally meet you." Her voice was like stone, a glossy surface but unmovable.

Gabriella tried not to snort. She wished she could have said the same. "Likewise."

She couldn't help herself. She felt like Rebecca, starving for gossip about this woman and how she managed to hook Troy. Obviously, her will and appearance was stunning and Troy matched her outgoing personality. But what lay beneath the surface? The natural journalist in her was mentally checking questions she wanted to grill from did she have any animals to whether or not Troy's ass was as sexy naked as it was clothed.

"Hey guys, I don't want to be rude, but Pay's gonna be pissed if we're not there on time." Zeke reminded them while lifting the watch strapped to his wrist. Gabriella's noticed the flicker of distaste Alicia sent Troy at the sound of Sharpay's name. She watched him silently scolded her.

One by one, they filed out of the apartment and noisily began to make their way down the narrow stairwell. Gabriella kept in step with Alicia on the way down, small talk scattered through the group though she was more focused on the holes Troy was drilling into the back of her neck. Taylor's words about his past once again haunted her brain.

"So how's New York treating yah?" Alicia asked kindly. She had apparently gotten over her initial judgment, or at least she was veiling it.

Gabriella shrugged as they stepped into the musty night. "It's an adjustment. How long have you been here?"

The glance tossed back towards Troy didn't go undetected. "Like two years."

"Two years too long," Chad joked, which earned him a slap with Alicia's faux Coach purse on his left bicep. "Ouch!"

She mentally rewound her brain to recall when Troy had moved to the city. Had she come from California too? Or did they meet in New York? "So what do you do?" Gabriella inquired as they began to stroll towards a busier street to catch a taxi more efficiently.

Alicia's emerald eyes caught hers in a way that made her stomach curl. "I'm going for my Bar Exam."

Gabriella almost stopped in her black pumps. She was a lawyer.

It wasn't a secret that lawyers and journalists were like Britain and the thirteen colonies in the Revolutionary War. The media could be blamed, for television shows and books all portrayed reporters as nosy little bees who drank stories like honey during Law and Order in the courtroom. But in Gabriella's eyes, this was false. Journalists were assigned to uncover the truth and share it with the world. Lawyers, on the other hand, were like snakes, curling and slithering across what was real and what imaginary so they won their argument.

Needless to say, they were rivals.

"Really?" Gabriella controlled the bitterness of her tone and cursed Troy for screwing something so filthy.

No one else seemed to grasp the awkwardness that swirled in the dirty air around them. But Gabriella felt it prickle beneath the surface of her blazer. "Yeah…"

It was Gabriella who threw her head back at Troy this time, with his brunette brow narrowed in slight confusion and wary. Her clutch dug deep lines into her palm as she tried to shove the thought of his naked torso hovering over Alicia's out of her mind. She couldn't make assumptions and she didn't want to get on anyone's negative side. Especially someone who was so close to the man she was so curious about.

"TAXI!" Taylor screamed when they reached the corner, pulling Gabriella out of her judgment and forced her to face forward once again. The sun cast long halos around the powering buildings and spilled a black shadow onto the left half of Troy's face –the side Alicia was standing on- shielding a part of him from the world.

The part Gabriella needed to know.

Two cabs screeched to a stop before Chad and Taylor eagerly climbed in the first. Chad hung his head out the window with his afro flapping obnoxiously before he waved his hand to coax her on. "Come on, someone's gotta come with us!"

Gabriella forced the reflexive reaction to glare at Alicia aside when she offered a careful smile, one that held a truce. "You go ahead." She allowed politely.

A pang pierced through her veins when Alicia took a step backwards, towards Troy. He remained still as a statue, before that cocky smirk painted over his lips before he nodded to the awaiting taxi. "There's no way I'm letting her watch them fuck, she's coming with us." Troy announced before stepping out of the blackness, fully into the light and reached for her slender wrist. She watched as his left eye closed in a swoon-worthy wink.

"My savior." Gabriella grinned before shooting Alicia a look of triumph and rushing towards the car with his hand still holding her skin.

* * *

Alicia was being forced to make an exception to the rule.

After transferring to NYU with an extraordinarily high GPA, she was offered the position to sit in a real live rape trial with several other aspiring students. She had basically wedged her eyes opened with toothpicks, writing essay after essay on why she was so elite and should be accepted into the program. Troy had been there the entire time, bouncing off ideas and kissing the stress away when it was required. Out of her determination and persistence, she could still remember the way her cheeks burned with happiness when she saw her name on the acceptance post.

The mentor lawyer was a stereotypical defender, with his white hair combed over his balding head and a wicked smile that hid his affair with a bimbo twenty year old. He was dirty, rotten, and perfect for the defense attorney. The smell of his tart cologne still filled her nostrils after these years and the sound of his exuberant scream of triumph the day they won the trial could be noted. He was also the guy who drove her away from defense and crossed her towards prosecution.

She hated the guy, hated the way his scheming mind circled in directions that trailed lies like muck. He was almost as repulsive as the rapist himself, who Alicia never hid her antipathy for. There were vial creatures rooming the world disguised as humans, and it sickened her so much that the night after the trial, she spent the night trembling in Troy's arms. Alicia was a rock by hiding her vulnerability, but that night she couldn't help the low sobs that were shushed by his gentle thumbs, promising her that she was a respectable person and wasn't like them. That she was better than them.

However, there was one piece of advice that Alicia would hold onto forever. She remembered the voice as crystal as glass as the college students marched into the courtroom with their poker faces painted on their cheeks. Flashing camera lights were shimmering behind her like the paparazzi chasing Lindsey Lohan. His pale face snarled as they passed, Alicia listening to the gossip from the journalists of how cruel the lawyers were of defending someone so twisted.

"Fucking pests make up shit. Stay away from the reporters; they're nosy little liars who fuck with the public to sell five minutes of fame. They'll only stick around until the new shiny object rolls by."

Alicia had sat through several other court sessions after this and found there words were the only truth he had ever spoken. The media could affect a jury in so many negative ways that Alicia couldn't help but feel bitter of the writers. She wasn't even an official lawyer and she had still shoved countless cameras and microphones out of her way as she swept towards court. They were made up of assholes and bitches who craved drama. The reporters were much like the popular crowd in high school, with one rumor and the entire class would know the deepest secret one held. They could be the difference between guilty, and not guilty.

She was also spending the evening with one.

The harmony of the actor's voices was swelling on stage as the attractive professionals leapt and scurried over each prop. Sharpay's tone could be heard over all else's, booming with a magnificence that would have been all powerful to those who were watching. But Alicia's eyes weren't glued to the stage like the rest of her friends. Instead, they kept darting to her left to view the giggling intern and her best friend attempting to muffle his laughter.

She wasn't jealous; there was no reason to be jealous of something that she had over this reporter. Plus, Troy was allowed to flirt and giggle and point to random acts on the stage all he wanted. They weren't in a relationship and it wasn't like Troy hadn't dated since the funeral. It was in those brief moments of time that either one had a girlfriend or boyfriend that they stopped all sexual contact completely. Cheating was the deadliest sin in Troy's book and Alicia would not stoop to something so despicable after she heard of her mentor's affair those years ago.

However, Alicia saw a glint of something in his cobalt gaze that she hadn't seen since… her.

She wasn't even sure if he knew it was there yet, but she could see it. Clear as day, the sparkle in his eye was undeniable: a path to his weakness. Whether it was infatuation or something more, Alicia noted the slight change in demeanor, even if she had only been around the two for three hours. She wasn't angry, she wasn't upset. She was curious.

Alicia sat in the darkness with her arms crossed to warm the goosebumps over her skin. The whispers beside her were hushed, but enough to make her glance over with judgment. The flirtation was most likely harmless, their outgoing personalities mixing together just as theirs did. There was no hatred towards the journalist yet, only a professional rivalry and a careful eye. Troy was easy, and she knew somewhere deep down, he was attracted to this woman.

And as she bowed her head in the blackness, she only prayed that her lawyer was right: that Gabriella would find a new shiny object she liked better.

* * *

Alcohol.

It was such as simple word for such a complicated substance. According to the all famous Wikipedia, alcohol was an organic compound in which a hydroxyl is bound to a carbon atom of an alkyl. However, this information is useless. In real life, alcohol was a poison. It was a parasite. How could one substance that wasn't even _alive_ be able to control one's emotions, one's actions? Alcohol was the assistant in death, or life, in different situations. It was the difference between leaving a person alone and a gruesome breakup. It aided in cheating and lampshade dancing.

And when handed to seven almost graduated college students, it was like the elixir of life.

"Okay… okay. It's, it's like a uh… you know that thing were you're in the snow and you…"

"YOU CAN'T SAY THE FUCKING WORD YOU'RE DESCRIBING WHILE PLAYING CATCH PHRASE!"

Troy doubled back in laughter, his back crashing against the white carpet of the floor so hard his spin felt a ripple with each rung. The shots that had been consumed a few hours before were running through his body, enough to make him slightly disoriented but not enough for one to consider him drunk, not yet at least. His blood felt warm, like a calming aid was soothed over him and numbed any poisonous thoughts about the injustices of the world. Everything in the giant, pink penthouse just felt relaxed.

It wasn't too often that Troy allowed himself to drink excessively. In his past life, alcohol had been the cause of all too many riffs. However, he wasn't one to sit out at a party and he had found himself with of intense dates with the porcelain bowl in the bathroom. He was a normal, twenty-four year old boy who loved his vodka.

"Dude…Shar… sweetie… you fucking suck…" Troy spit out as he gripped the edges of his flexed abdominals, just in case his insides might burst.

Sharpay, who was kneeling on the ground with her expensive jeans and blonde hair tossed in an elegant do, lifted the plastic wheel that represented the game and chucked it in his general direction-which meant that she almost sliced off Chad's neck like a discus three feet away from Troy. She pouted before staggering to her drunken feet and clawed her way to a stance. "I… I fucking hate that game…Zeke! Zeke pour me some more tequila!" She swiped an empty champagne flute from the couch and lifted the glass as though it was filled to the brim. "To my performance worthy of… of… of Shakes- fucking-speare!"

Rent had ended a few hours before, and after waiting an hour for Sharpay to exit de-hair and make up, they decided to come back to her magenta penthouse on the expensive side of town. After giving Gabriella the expansive tour of the apartment-which could really be considered a mansion it was so vast- they took to pouring shots and playing immature games, though Gabriella seemed to be in awe at the house instead of focused. The walls were covered with expensive artwork of intricate poses and positions. The ceiling was high and white, with an upper story that could be stolen from any storybook castle. The kitchen was chrome; the refrigerator and stove practically sparkled with a shine the daily maid and the furniture was like puffy clouds on a summer day.

Something fell into his lap and in his steadiness; it took him a brief moment of confusion until he realized that the figure was brunette. Alicia giggled stupidly before beaming up at him from the horizontal angle. "Troy… Troy… I'm so happy, so incredibly happy, you forced me to come tonight!"

Her abnormally large tongue wiggled its way out of the capture of her lips when she brought her crystal glass to her mouth. Troy rolled his eyes at her completely drunken demeanor, although she matched the rest of the group who were shouting loudly to a crowd two feet away from them. "I didn't force you. I requested."

He glanced up to catch a view of Gabriella laughing profusely over Chad's imitation of "Out Tonight". A small smile curled on his face when a glimmer twinkled in her mocha iris as she locked a stare with him. Troy's legs suddenly felt like jelly and he did the only thing he could think of, and winked at her, completely forgetting about Alicia in his lap.

"Danforth, if you don't fucking shut up, I… I'll… or Zeke will like… start your car on fire." Sharpay swiveled her head around on its hinges as she searched desperately for some object. "Where the hell is my tequila?"

Chad cockily smirked and threw his chocolate arm around her shoulders. "Shar… Pay… sweetheart… we're in New York, I don't have a car!"

"You shitface," Sharpay shoved his chest off of her, causing him to collapse to the ground in his befuddled state. "Zeke! Tequila!"

The amber liquid sloshed around as they passed the bottle. Once it reached the two sprawled across the floor, Alicia fingered the cap in her hands and stared up at him almost distantly. "You were supposed to keep your glass clean!" She exclaimed and thrust her fingers out to search for his cup.

Troy laughed as he felt her pads on his gray jeans and gently massaged the back of her scalp. "I've had enough for now."

His gaze once again lifted and captured the girl folded across the circle. She had a curious smile over her cheeks that were almost impossible to read. It fascinated him, so much that his lower body suddenly was numb to Alicia's. Troy was beyond entranced, whether the alcohol was heightening her beauty or if it was just because she was so holy.

"Gabriella!" Alicia hiccupped in his lap. "Gabriella! Have more!"

She rolled the Dos Manos Blanco across the carpet until it tapped the journalist's knee. Gabriella carefully wrapped her fingers around the neck and lifted the bottle before gently shaking her black curls. "I'm good. I'm gonna go get some air though."

Boos echoed around the penthouse as she rose from her kneel. Troy watched her as she spun around with elegance, a balance that could not be obtained if she was under the influence. Her swagger to the two French doors leading to Sharpay's balcony was almost seductive. A need surged in his chest. Slowly, he rolled Alicia off his legs, only to receive daggers. "I'll be back!" He promised before following the siren's call.

The summer breeze tickled over his bronze skin as he stepped into the glimmer of the New York skyline. Hundreds of lights illuminated like diamonds over the four stories Sharpay's home towered over. The tiles beneath his feet were adobe –matching the tanned color of the fence that circled the giant perimeter. A bench was tucked into the corner beside a pot of pink lilies and a palm fern. But what trapped his attention was the shadowed silhouette standing before the glow of the city. An angel in the night.

Troy dug his hands into his pockets as he waltzed over, careful not to catch her off guard. Her small fingers were curled around the bar and her eyes shined the reflection like Christmas morning. She didn't look at him, but the flicker of her lips proved she was aware of his presence.

"It's so beautiful," Gabriella announced in greeting. Troy felt his own grin stretch across his face as she stared in a mystified way at the city. She sighed, eyes dancing across the horizon. "I mean, I looked before, but tonight it's just… stunning."

"Yeah, people don't really appreciate how incredible it really is." Troy leaned his hip against the rail and reveled in the sight before him.

Gabriella tilted her head ever so slightly, but it was enough for him to drown in the perfectly smooth edges of her face and the exhilarated shine threaded in her dark eyes. "I'm surprised you're not back inside taking shots."

Troy leaned towards her and inhaled the intoxication of her perfume. "I'm surprised you're not wasted."

Their eyes met, the power of her stare almost interrogating. "Neither are you."

He let out a weak chuckle before facing the night once again. Silence overtook them as he watched the speeding cars below and listened to the even sound of her breath beside him. He was suddenly very aware of the steady beats of his heart and the coolness of the fence beneath his fingertips. The warm skin on her hand brushed the side of his.

"Can I ask you something?" Gabriella softly requested, which caused his eyes to reach her face once again. She didn't look at him and focused her attention on the silver ring that hugged her right finger.

Troy's eyebrows furrowed. "If you want."

Gabriella sucked in a hot breath and finally turned to him. He realized that this was the first moment they had ever had alone since they met. The stillness of her visage was so intimate, yet practiced constantly. He suddenly felt like a suspect being questioned by a detective. But the thought did not faze him. Quite the opposite, in fact. Troy suddenly felt the attraction towards her heighten at the way her profession was unveiling. It was, dare he say it, ungodly sexy.

"Taylor and Sharpay said something about your past."

Troy suddenly froze. His mind was whirling with panic that already, Gabriella knew of his previous life. His toes turned numb and his heart hammered violently against his chest. He trusted Sharpay with _almost_ every minute detail of the blood spilt and the poor decisions made. And Taylor? Where did she go off on gossiping about him to Gabriella?

For a brief moment, he considered storming back into the flat and terrorize with a tantrum. However, what stopped him was the gloss in her eyes, the pure curiosity painted beneath the smoky lids. She was naïve, unaware of the story Troy believed had been revealed. He let out a breath of relief before shrugging the taut muscles in his shoulders. "That's not a question."

She nodded, but never once left his stare. "They also wouldn't tell me what happened."

Thank fucking god. "Yeah?"

Gabriella placed her palm over the supple surface of her skin and toyed with her fingers, but her face was solid as stone. "They made it seem kinda serious."

Troy raised his chest again and turned back to the shimmering lights surrounding them. His hand trailed over the surface of the ledge and his heart squeezed with the empty sensation of the woman's arms wrapped around his torso. His eyes fluttered shut and he drowned in the ghost of her touch delicately tracing each curvature of his muscles. Like a secret in the wind, Troy could almost hear the song of her voice drift through his lobes like she was standing beside him instead of the journalist.

He didn't say anything, but once again returned to reality and watched his hands moving slowly over the rail. "So what's the story?" Gabriella pressed, leaning towards him as though he was sending hypnotic rays in her direction.

Troy let out a low chuckle before he turned to her once again, watching her desperate need for information. This was her calling, her passion, and Troy suddenly realized that just telling her wouldn't be enough. She was a detective, a person who thrived off of mystery. A person who loved a challenge. Telling her so easily would build nothing. It wasn't what she wanted.

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, a devious smirk over his lips. "You're a journalist, aren't you?"

Gabriella's brow furrowed with confusion. "Um, yes…"

Troy curled his body towards her, enough so he could feel her steamy breath on his cheeks. His hand closed around her wrist and felt a spark wave jolt up his joints. He breathed her scent, and felt her oxygen hitch. "Then maybe you'll find your answer."

With that, he locked her eyes one final time before spinning on his soles and marching back towards the house, leaving Gabriella and her spinning head behind.


	6. Minute Six

"I don't get it."

Gabriella huffed a rib-rattling sigh before she collapsed onto her chair. Mercilessly, she banged the flat skin of her forehead onto the wood much harder than intended. The bustle and buzz of the news print around them offered almost solitude at her station with Jason seated across from her, legs crossed upon her desk and an almost amused smirk plastered on his face. The intensity of her headache was increasing with every slam, until finally she flipped her ebony curls out of her eyes and glared at his mocking laughter.

"Would I really be talking to you if I got it?" She asked with bitterness pooling off of her words.

The morning had only brought misery for the aspiring journalist. The words that had been said the previous evening were looming over every thing she did, like some pestering fly that just wouldn't go away. Troy had been so cryptic, but it called to Gabriella's detective side as heroine was to an addict. What was said was haunting her: when she stepped in the shower, when she sat beside a chunky businessman on the subway, when she walked into work, when she fetched Rebecca's coffee she replayed the balcony scene over and over again. No matter how desperately she tried, she couldn't escape the need to discover the mystery.

Jason chuckled again and placed his hands behind the messy black strands of his hair. "Calm down Montez, I'm just trying to play psychologist. Don't get your panties in a bundle."

"Ugh," Gabriella groaned and rubbed her palm against her face again. "You're not helping."

He rolled his eyes and shifted from the lax position after receiving daggers from the fellow employees. "Run it by me again." Jason ordered, leaning forward to place his elbows onto his knees with curiosity.

Gabriella closed her eyes and let out the second distressed sigh in the past two minutes. "I told him I heard he had a past, I asked him what happened. He asked if I was a journalist. He said, 'then you'll find your answer'." Gabriella picked up a pen resting before her and chucked it back at the table, just for the obnoxious dramatic effect. "What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Jason pondered with his finger on his chin in a joking way. "Maybe he wrote you a super secret note and put it in one of your drawers and you can only read it by black light," he suggested teasingly. She was so consumed with her thoughts that she actually reached towards the handle of her drawer. However, she caught herself mid action and snatched the pen once again, only to chuck it forcefully at Jason's chest. "What the hell?" He rubbed his white button up at the impact point.

"Go play with your camera, I'm trying to focus here." Her pointer fingers rubbed forceful circles around her temples at the headache caused by both thinking too hard and the tequila she consumed the previous evening. The constant ringing of phones and the commotion in the newsroom wasn't allowing any room for a remedy either.

Jason shook his head. "I'm sorry, okay? Seriously, I want to help."

She didn't respond, but instead closed her eyes and breathed as evenly as she could to allow her rigid muscles to relax. "Well, unless you can magically plant a chip in his head to let me know what shit is going through his thick skull, I don't think helping is going to work out."

Rebecca was on lunch and she was thankful for a lack of demand in the photography section of the paper. They had developed a close friendship since she first began interning at the paper. He may be an utter dick sometimes, but she was happy he was in her life. "Start at the beginning. What do you know so far?"

Gabriella reeled back over every conversation she ever had with him. "His name is Troy Bolton. He went to school in Albuquerque. He loves basketball. He went to UCLA. He's been friends with Chad since high school," Gabriella groaned. "I've got nothing."

"Hmm…" Jason thought out loud. "Maybe he was going into journalism, so he meant that you'll find your answer here."

She shook her head and allowed her soft curls to fall over her face like a veil. "I doubt it. He's going for PT."

"Doctor, huh?" He smirked. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind getting a massage from him."

Another pen flew through the air again and flicked his nose forcefully. Jason turned his head with daggers in his flakey eyes before chucking the writing utensil back at her. "Focus Cross!"

"What? You want him."

A rush of shivers surged up her spine when the words were released into the air. Her dark eyes shot up to lock with his, her fingers numb and her toes curling. Other than being ungodly attractive, Gabriella honestly never thought of Troy as anyone other than a puzzle of a friend. Okay, so he was a charming and humorous friend with the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. And the air he breathed, it was so tempting to place her hands on his arms or lean her nostrils towards him to catch a brief whiff of his musky scent.

"I do not." She denied, even if she eased her hands into her lap to hide their careful tremble.

Jason smugly placed his feet back upon her desk. "Yeah, you do."

"Why would you say that?" Gabriella asked, her voice was slightly shaky at the tiny revelation that was beginning to unfold. She questioned herself. However, she momentarily attempted to brush aside the assumptions Jason was making. There were no disguised feelings for Troy, were there?

Jason rolled his eyes. "Oh come on Montez, you've been obsessing over what the guy said all morning."

"I just want to know! He wouldn't give me answers. I have a right to be curious!"

"Yeah, curious as in how long his dick is." He mumbled under his breath.

Maybe the appeal to him had nothing to do his physicality. Honestly, when she first met him she had nothing more drawn to him than she did with Chad. But it was the way he presented himself. The way he gave her this permission to dive into his past was almost endearing. It was as though he was handing her the ultimate story to uncover…

Gabriella froze; her eyes glossed over and petrified. "That's it." She whispered almost in a trance and felt the jack rabbit inside her heart hammer wildly against her chest.

Jason glanced left and right, fearful that she may pass out. "What's it? Gabs? Gabs!"

She silently scolded herself for being so stupid and not seeing the obvious. The morning was wasted in her obliviousness. It all was as clear as glass in her mind, how stupid had she previously been? "He wants me to figure it out on my own."

He stared at her for a long moment, question glistening in his irises. "What?"

"Don't you see?" Gabriella's hands were flying with excitement now and she was speaking a million miles a minute. "He thinks this is what I want. He _wants _me to find out on my own."

Jason blinked stupidly. "Why the hell would he think that?"

"Because I'm a journalist," Gabriella explained. "Discovering the truth is euphoria for me."

She watched as he contemplated this, squeezing her fingers almost nervously for his input on the idea. It had to be the reason, whether Troy purposefully thought it or not. There could be no other explanation. Most people, if they didn't want someone to know of their history, would just shrug it off or tell the person to go shove their head in a toilet. But Troy, he was coaxing her. Like he wanted her to know, but wanted _her _to find it. Not him telling her. Excitement was running through her veins swifter than the Nile River.

Gabriella bit her lip when Jason finally locked eyes with her once again, a tiny curl of a smile painting over his lips. "Damn Montez, I think you've got it."

Glee cast over her body, and she was so giddy that she almost squealed in delight. Almost being the key word. "Take that Cross!" Gabriella pumped her fist triumphantly, her magenta knit rising on her hip.

"Don't gloat, I helped," he snapped, though he was beaming from ear to ear. "So after he fucks you, you can go ask all his little friends like the Katherine Graham wannabe you are."

Gabriella glared knives in his direction. "He's already screwing someone else."

"Who cares? You want him."

She opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment, but the sound of thunder interrupted her voice. They both turned around to see a beefy man with his arms crossed over the swell of his stomach. "Cross, your camera's calling. It's pissed you're pathetically trying to seduce Montez when there's a demonstration over by Ground Zero." Frank's thick voice pounded.

Jason immediately sprang from his seat and nodded. "I'm on it Frank," The boss rolled his eyes and lumbered away to find someone else to hound. He glanced down at Gabriella once again with a gentle smile. "Call me if you find anything out, alright?"

Gabriella let out a low laugh. "Yeah, I'll start interviewing Chad right after I go color code Rebecca's staplers." She sarcastically added, bitter about the lack of writing her job was producing.

He grinned before ruffling her hair. "That's my girl."

* * *

After living in New York City for a few weeks, Gabriella realized that the transition between day and night was almost as quick as a blink of an eye. It was true, that it was the metropolis that never slept. There were always people hurrying to reach a taxi, couples strolling around the sidewalks, and speeding subways that ran into the deep hours of the evening. However, it was nice to be able to curl up in her apartment on a night such as this and escape the rapid bustle of the all too famous area.

"I'm just tired of not doing anything, you know? I came to New York to write, not be someone's lap dog" Gabriella walked out of the entry of her bedroom with the phone cradled between her ear and the soft skin her red tank top revealed. Her hair danced over her back and her black yoga pants hugged her curves tightly.

"_I know Ella, but these things take time. You've only been there for a month._" Maria Montez soothed in a calming voice, enough to bring the recently graduated student a sense of ease that she had almost forgotten.

She sighed into the phone as she walked into the kitchen and carefully opened the cabinets, only to find empty boxes of macaroni. "I know, I know it's just… frustrating."

Maria chuckled softly on the other side of the line, the normally lifting sound muffled by the connection. "_You'll get there Miji, I know you will."_

Gabriella rolled her eyes and shuffled towards the refrigerator. "You're my mother, you have to be biased." She reminded and opened the heavy door. Cheese, milk, butter, apples… Gabriella frowned at her lack of grocery shopping techniques. Her fingers sifted through the collection of fruit and yogurt, but were unsuccessful in scavenging for anything that would fill her for more than twenty minutes.

"_Ella, you're talented. I've been reading your stories since you were four years old. Everyone has to start at the bottom sometime in their lives. You'll get there." _Her mother promised. If she was bull shitting, it didn't matter. Gabriella felt a smile brighten on her face at the words.

"Thanks Mom. I really gotta go though." Her stomach gurgled in hunger and she glared down at her flat abdomen in response.

"_Be safe, alright? I love you._"

Gabriella once again smiled softly at no one, staring off into space as though she could see gaze into her mother's dark eyes and feel her comforting embrace. "I love you too, Mom." She clicked the phone and placed it onto the barren counter. An exasperated breath blew from her mouth and she tapped her cropped nails impatiently, eyes trailing over each and every crevice as though her dinner may leap from beneath the microwave.

"What to eat, what to eat." She mumbled in a sing-song voice. Feeling both irritated and starving, Gabriella reached for the cabinet once again…

…when a rapping knocked on the door.

A groan grumbled from her throat as she rolled her head back in pure annoyance. Who ever was lingering outside was clearly not respecting her eating habits, and the disturbance was not welcome when she dragged her feet towards the entrance. Another beat upon the wood to an unknown temp. Angered by the impatience, Gabriella forcefully shoved her eye towards the peephole and suddenly felt her breath caught in her throat at the dimorphic figure on the other side of the port way.

Gabriella jumped away with pure excitement rushing through her veins as she ripped open the door. "Troy!" She squeaked enthusiastically, all thoughts of murdering the visitor vanished from her mind.

Troy lifted his head and flicked the lazy bangs up and away from his ceruleans. His shoulder leaned casually against the frame beneath a band t-shirt, with his jean-clad legs crossed at the ankles. "Hey Gabriella." He flashed an almost nervous smile that was almost as beaming as his million-dollar grin. He pushed off the wall with his powerful muscles and awkwardly shifted his weight on his black converses.

Her face felt hot, like someone pressed a curling iron to her cheeks. The sound of Jason's mockery for her infatuation entered her ears once again, but she mentally flipped him off and reminded herself of the g-rated feelings she had for him, and not the steamy counterparts the photographer poisoned her mind with. "What are you doing here?"

"Erm…" he stuttered, reaching into his chestnut spike to scratch the back of his neck coyly. "Well, I got back from work and was just sorta sitting around all bored and shit. Then I got hungry as hell, so I got some take out and thought maybe you'd want to…"

Gabriella's attention span halted the second he uttered the word "take out". She had been so shocked by his appearance that she hadn't noticed the cardboard boxes in his clutches. Simultaneously, a waft of the Chinese stimulus flooded her nostrils, inducing a pool of drool to threaten to dribble from her lips.

"Food!" She squealed and leapt towards his grasp as though he was holding the Holy Grail.

"Whoa!" Gabriella snatched Troy's green shirt and dragged him into the room, completely forgetting the awkwardness that had just crossed between them. Her sights were narrowed on the white cardboard, the aroma acted as a calling. The door rattled behind him with a slam as she swiped the steaming contents from his hold. "I'm taking this as I'm invited in?" Troy chuckled as Gabriella ran in the direction of the kitchen.

She turned towards him, her cheeks flooding a blush at her uncontrollable behavior. "Oh uh, I'm sorry I just…"

"Haven't eaten in weeks?" he mocked with his brunette eyebrows raised, pure amusement generating from his cyan orbs.

Her hand was brought up to her curls embarrassedly as she trailed her fingers through the coiled fibers. "Um, I guess I was a little hungry."

Troy snorted and crossed his arms, the muscles on his golden skin flexing deliciously. "A little?" Gabriella bit her lip in mortification before he shook his head. "Gabriella, Gabriella… what am I gonna do with you?"

"Eat with me?" Gabriella requested innocently.

He tapped his chin with his pointer finger as though he was mulling the thought over. Gabriella impatiently knocked her knuckles against the counter; waiting for the response she already knew was going to come. "Well I did run to get take out, and came all the way over here," Troy flashed her a cheeky smile that momentarily forget her panging appetite. "Got any chopsticks?"

They rotated around each other like satellites as they migrated over to the couch. It was a bizarre feeling, being alone in her apartment with the man she was so desperately attempting to discover. Apart from the brief moment in solitude on the balcony the previous evening, this was the first true time they were alone. There was no Chad or Taylor or –god forbid- Alicia lurking around. The opportunities of interrogation and the built of a friendship were handed to her on a shiny, sexy, silver platter.

"So, what have we got?" Gabriella asked after she jumped onto the couch, crossing her legs like a little girl eager to receive her presents.

Troy plopped down on the couch next to her, leaving a safe enough distance so he could place his purchase between them. Before answering, his head swiveled around the surprisingly tidy room and chuckled. "So, you took the fort down?"

She recalled that the last time he had been in her loft, there had been boxes cluttered everything, much different than the couch that rested a yard or so away from the shiny television donated by her mother and the weak decorating job of the walls. "Yeah, it really wasn't blocking my enemies well enough." She giggled.

He leaned forward, enough for her to see the flecks of aquamarine in his irises. "Oh yeah? Am I your enemy?"

The way he had dropped his voice was intoxicating. Gabriella had to bite her tongue to keep herself from rounding inquisitions about whether or not he had murdered anyone or if he was in the CIA and was spying on a terrorist. The way he was sitting there, with his eyes drilled upon her and his face carved from Michelangelo himself, made her crave the knowledge hidden behind that perfect complexion. The journalist in her was screaming to let loose, but she forced her desires to a silence. It would take time, and pounding questions on him would only turn him away.

"No, you brought me food. I'm pretty sure you're on my good side." She eyed the white boxes again in longing.

"Good to know," he mused before pointing to the largest box. "Brown rice, sweet and sour chicken, and beef and broccoli."

"Not a squid kind of guy?" Gabriella teased and snatched the first bucket of rice.

Troy flashed a crooked smirk. "Not my takeout style."

She wasn't quite sure if Chinese takeout had ever tasted as good as that evening. Between furious chews, their conversation came easy. Gabriella avoiding grilling him on her couch, but she couldn't help herself attempt to steer in the direction of his past. If she got too close, Troy would veer off into some tangent that would both fascinate and frustrate her. He was a professional at hiding; it was as though he never missed a beat or slipped up. Gabriella mentally noted this.

The TV was murmuring in the background as Troy finally leaned back against the soft cushions. He eyed her almost knowingly and took an easy swig of the beer he was holding. Gabriella's legs were dangling off the side of the furniture facing him. "Fuck, that tasted amazing." Troy mused softly, his brilliant eyes transfixed on the television before him.

"I'm in your debt, because there was _nothing _in this apartment before you got here." Gabriella glanced back at the refrigerator, actually happy now that it was empty.

Troy chuckled. "You had beer."

Gabriella rolled her eyes and smacked the back of his head playfully, something she would do to someone she had known for years. He lifted his hands to shield from her blow, and was so distracted that he didn't feel the buzzing that rumbled through the pillows. Gabriella, however, wasn't as oblivious and pointed towards his jeans. "Your ass is vibrating."

"That just sounds weird," Troy smirked and reached into his back pocket to pull out a fairly sleek phone. His eyes furrowed as he read whatever was on the screen and Gabriella couldn't help but giggle at his concentration. "Fuck Alicia, not again…" He mumbled under his breath, making Gabriella's heart sink in disappointment.

In the moments of bliss, she had completely wiped his best friend out of her mind. Never once in their conversation did the thought process revert back to Alicia. It was like she was stripped back to six grades, when she had her first crush as the hot shot of the playground and discovered he was into girls with boobs. Disappointment rushed in a flush as she pulled her knees up to her chest: a protective shield to keep her from the harm that he could give her with rejection.

"Hey, don't hesitate if you need to go or something." Gabriella nodded towards the door, her head held high even if she felt like a jealous preteen. Fuck Alicia and their potential steamy sex.

The ocean of his eyes shot up from his phone, narrowed with perplexity as his fingers swiftly moved across the key pad. "Why would I need to go? Are you kicking me out?"

"What? No!" she jumped all too quickly, which induced a tiny curl on the side of his lips. "I just didn't want to hold you up or something."

"You make it seem like I have a shit load of a social life." He pressed the end button to his cell and eased it back into his pocket.

"How'd you and Alicia meet?" Gabriella suddenly couldn't control the reporting impulses that had been contained all night. She suddenly leaned forward -eyes black and shining, starving for information- and felt her nails tap zealously onto the beige surface of her sleeper-sofa.

She knew Troy could see the wheels cranking uncontrollably in her head. He placed the bottle to his lips again, taunting her in his sweet time. Gabriella had to strain herself from leaping over and shaking his neck until he spilled the information. "First day of freshman year at UCLA. She sat next to me in my ethics class."

How ironic, they bonding over being ethical, yet they were screwing each other's brains out without attachment. "Where'd she grow up?" Her mouth was moving at a million miles a minute.

"Sacramento." Troy answered, his muscles beginning to pull back with hesitation as he watched her warily.

By this time, Gabriella was so desperate that the moment the words flooded out of her mouth, she regretted them. "Why'd she come to New York with you?"

Troy snickered, reaching his hand out and tenderly grazing the pads of his fingers over her drumming. The action immediately halted her nervous habit and sent shockwaves through her skin. It took every ounce of energy not to reach up and slip between the spaces of his digits. Blue met brown in a fiery gaze that both silenced her and stripped her breath away from her lungs.

Once again, a mysterious smirk painted his features. "No wonder they hired you for the Tribute."

The opportunity literally slipped through her fingers as he released his grasp and swiveled to face the television once again. Gabriella inwardly groaned, frustration over the lack of answers eating at her skin. Her brain was reeling, scanning over every word that was spoken in the conversation that evening in case there were any clues she missed or skipped over. Family, the draining economy, visiting him at work the next day, food, forts… Yet she only came up with one answer as he draped his arm along the back of the couch all too casually:

She still had nothing.


	7. Minute Seven

**A/N: Thanks for reading as always!

* * *

**

Sometimes, work was the most difficult part of Troy Bolton's life.

He was handed many types of injuries, ranging from as small as a broken wrist to as large as a forty year-old father plagued by two amputated stubs for legs It was in horrid times like those when Troy blessed the ground he walked on that he wasn't the one in the wheel chair, that he was not the one who could never walk again –never have a chance to. To carry about one's life, without movement in it's joints or the sensation of skin to skin contact. Knowing that they were doomed to a life on two wheels immediately triggered a mild depression within. He had been lucky, he was lucky.

Yet, there were few flickers when his mind mutinied against the rest of his body, and he cursed a higher power that he was not the one immobilized.

Paralysis would have made his decision to leave what mattered most much easier. If his body had been frozen in time, he would have been able to gaze into the glossy mirror –scrutinizing the flecks of turquoise in his irises every morning and know that walking away from the court and his promising future was inevitable. He would then live with the knowledge that everything happened for a reason, and that he was _meant _to escape from the thousands of fans stomping, chanting his name as he snatched a J from the top of the key. Instead, Troy was haunted by the sight of his healthy body. The nightmare of his physical perfection teased him. That the only reason he hadn't been skyrocketed to stardom was because he was so damn stupid.

"Let me know when it starts hurting." Troy instructed while gently placing pressure on the seventeen year-old's slender leg, bending it towards her tiny chest and watched as her blue eyes squeezed with pain.

"Right there…there!" Her voice screeched on the brown carpet, face scrunched in pure angst. Troy's grip loosened, and eased her limb back to the original lateral position.

Troy frowned as he crawled around the sport's star, the straight shimmer of her blond hair flipped in its lengthy ponytail. "Okay, now I want you to tell me if it hurts when I put pressure on it okay?" He directed with a warm smile as he placed her hand between the crease of her hip and her quadriceps. The girl squirmed and blushed, directing her eyes in the opposite way of embarrassment at how close he was to her. Troy tried not to roll his eyes at her naïve behavior and continued his job.

"Um, I can feel that." She bit her bottom lip painfully and Troy readjusted the position of her muscle once again, carefully balancing her lower back with his palm. The sound of another patient's pounding feet on a machine and the elevator-style exercise music filled the empty strength room. A glowing sunset spilled through the large window overlooking the… beauty of a boring an executive office.

"You've been icing every day, right Ellie?" Troy finally let go of her body and rolled back onto his knees. The teenager, Ellie, nodded and looked down at her bare legs as though they were torturing her.

"Morning and night." She responded softly, gently trailing her fingers down her calf as though the touch would heal her wounds.

He sighed and glanced at the only other patient in the gym, a middle aged man with a severe limp trudging on the treadmill. The office was slowly dwindling into a close, and Troy looked back at his last appointment for the day with empathy. "How does it feel when you walk?" He asked inquisitively and watched as her head snapped up with almost an anticipated excitement. Troy remembered that feeling, the knowledge of the clearing that was progressing in his basketball career. The life so distant from the one he had now.

"It um, it doesn't hurt too badly." Ellie held conviction in her steady tone.

Troy nodded and gave a small chuckle. "Why don't you go for a ten minute run tomorrow and see how it feels?"

The track star's eyes nearly bugged out of her creamy face as she practically leapt from the ground, though careful not to provide any more damage to the already injured joint. "You're, you're serious?!" she practically screamed, causing the other two occupants in the room to glance towards the shining mirror behind her to view the commotion. Troy placed his finger against her lips to simmer her down, but the joy she was experiencing was overwhelming.

"If it hurts I want you to stop, alright?" He cautioned while bending over in his khaki pants to reach the forgotten clipboard.

"Yes! Of course! I… thank you!" Ellie jumped towards him and flung her arms around the navy collar of his polo. Troy laughed warily and awkwardly patted her back, not quite sure if he could tell her that this was highly inappropriate in her excitement. However, it didn't seem to be an issue, for she flew out of his muscles almost the moment she grasped him. Her cheeks flushed ruby and she nervously cowered away from him. Troy awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. "I mean…"

"Just take it easy alright? It's not a two hundred pace," Troy reminded her as she stumbled to gather her sweats, probably still mortified by the hug. "I'll see you back next week."

"Yeah um, bye!" She waved and almost tumbled backwards over one of the many midnight patient beds aligned in the corner of the gym. A hand ran down his bronzed face and rolled his eyes when her sashaying blond hair swished out of the room.

He cleared the station almost languorously, trudging his feet with fatigue. Dragging across the floor, Troy gave a weak wave to the other physical therapist still with the middle aged sausage and exited the cluster of machines.

The reason for his career choice had been simple; he didn't have many other options. Troy hadn't entered college with plans of a degree. In fact, the superstar originally waved away the idea of moving beyond his freshman year in education. Ever since he was twelve years old, he had had dreams and aspirations of leaving the university after his sophomore year. It was the plan, the plan that received rolled eyes and waved hands, to be reminded of reality and how many really were drafted into the NBA. But he was persistent, and with the support of his father, it seemed reachable. His second year at UCLA, he could taste the sweet flavor of accomplishment when recruiters began to weave through the crowd at his games. So close, he had been so close to his goal. To his fantasy.

And then he threw it all away when he went down on one knee.

Physically therapy had been his choice when he transferred to NYU. It seemed to set him at some sort of ease for his pain. Seeing other people triumph over injury, trying to help them accomplish what he couldn't made the tossing and turning at night a little easier to endure. Knowing that someone else had a chance when he didn't wasn't enough to cure his sorrows, but it soothed his disappointment.

After retrieving his keys from the break room and finishing up the scrabbles of paperwork, he marched out towards the waiting room. "Have a good night Troy!" The elderly receptionist waved sweetly, her bugged eyeglasses glinting beneath the fluorescents.

"You too, Barb!" He opened the wooden door, lazily strolling into the rows of chairs back against the wall…

When he suddenly halted in his tracks.

She was seated easily with her jean-clad legs crossed and tucked under the chair. Her dark eyes were scanning an ancient magazine, black hair coiling around to frame her olive face. The hidden, immature teenager within praised the fashion gods for her v-cut blouse, allowing the hint of her clavicle and cleavage. He was captivated; entranced in a way he had not been in since… since someone else stole his attention. For a brief moment, he just admired her beauty and was completely blind to the way the man next to her had just raised, practically leaping in excitement.

"Dude! About fucking time!" Chad cursed loudly, which earned him a glare from the white haired grandmother behind the front desk.

Gabriella's head snapped up at the sound of his entrance. Troy swallowed thickly when the pillows of her lips curled upwards, a sight that would have given the Mona Lisa a run for her money. She soundlessly stretched; the view of her flat stomach teased him. "Let him off easy Chad, he just got off work."

"What are you doing here?" Troy asked both of them, but his stare was grilled onto Gabriella with pure curiosity, not that he minded.

Ever since he arrived on her doorstep with Chinese food two weeks previously, his mind had been a whirlwind of exotic thoughts. She was quickly developing into one of his best friends, yet there was a separate attachment that he couldn't pinpoint onto Sharpay or Taylor. Something different elated him, something that he hadn't tasted since he last allowed the tingle of a forgotten kiss linger on his lip, since he drowned into the mimicking color of his ceruleans, caressed the gentle curves of her paled skin.

He couldn't quite describe the emotions he was beginning to develop for Gabriella. Her presence was nice, more than nice really. The conversations they shared were fascinating, and her personality was not quite a headstrong bitch, but she didn't let anyone take advantage of her either. The seconds around her flew by quickly, and when he blessed with her presence, he caught himself daydreaming about her. It was a familiar, yet foreign sensation that ran through his veins and caused his heart to jumpstart when he saw her.

And he liked it.

The way she was fascinated by discovering the truth was a -dare he say it- turn on for him. She had a passion; much like that he had a passion for two hoops and an orange sphere. Excitement was drawn from the truth, from being a sleuth and it summoned him. Not only was she beautiful, but she was determined and intelligent as well.

"I was bored and caught Gabs on her way in." Chad shrugged; the ponytail that held his afro bounced as he spoke.

Troy flickered his stare towards Chad with a cocked eyebrow. "You're idea of fun is sitting in a waiting room at my work?"

"We're boring people." Gabriella smirked and wrapped her arm around Chad's waist. He watched as Chad beamed and flung his arm around her as well, and Troy felt a surge of jealousy heat his face. Momentarily, he forgot Chad was a taken man and almost snarled in envy.

"Apparently." He teased after she safely removed her arms from his best friend's grasp. "So what's on the agenda for today?"

Chad frowned when Troy began to lead them towards the door, mouthing an apology to the secretary for his friend's sailor tongue. "What do we look like? Your organizers, oh-Holy-Bolton?" The door swung to a close behind them as they stepped into the silent hallway of the building, the golden letters spelling "14" rattled in its wake. "And if you must know, we don't have plans. Tay's out spending my money on home cooking shit."

"Ouch. That's rough man," he turned to Gabriella. "You didn't go with?"

She shrugged her thin shoulders, allowing them to graze the side of her cheeks. "I didn't want to go."

"She wanted to see you more." Chad grinned, though Troy felt his breath catch at the thought of her _wanting_ to come visit him. The embarrassing, yet exciting, emotion arose in his chest once again, as though he were an overly horny sixteen year old boy about to take his first glimpse of pornography. Even if it was pathetic, he couldn't help the mental fiesta that was partying inside his head.

"Don't boost his ego anymore than it already is." Gabriella stuck her tongue out. The images of that same organ in different places were shoved aside as she pranced down the hallway in a childlike manor.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He shot at her, though there was nothing but amusement glittering in his cyan irises. The walls were painted with an evergreen color, yet the scarlet top she was wearing was contrasting against her soft skin, therefore making him blind to all other shades and objects.

Gabriella innocently gazed up at him, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth. "I'm just saying that maybe you're head's the size of Jupiter, only less attractive."

His jaw dropped in feigned heartbreak and watched as she grinned triumphantly. "You're so gonna pay for that…" Troy couldn't help his teeth shine like a little boy as he pounced towards her, the chocolate eyes widening with fright-her movements appeared fairylike through the passageway, quickening as she sprinted away from his chase. The speed she was traveling flapped her ebony spirals around as she raced desperately away from him.

But hours upon hours of useless practices paid off, for as his black shoes pounded against the carpet, he gained distance on her. Another step and Troy encircled his arm around her waist, listening to the musical squeal that sung from her throat. Pulling her back to his stone chest, Troy twirled her around like the football star and his homecoming queen. A giddy feeling poured over him as the sound of her giggles filled the cracks of the walls. "Put me down Bolton!"

"It's your punishment." He mumbled in her ear, much more seductively than intended.

He could almost feel her pout in front of him, yet the scent of her rose shampoo intoxicated his nostrils and he couldn't help but nudge his nose closer to her tresses. "You just can't handle the truth." The light mood suddenly brewed a cloud of tension as her eye caught his.

Over the past few weeks that the two had fused as friends, Troy was able to pick up when the journalist within began to surface. Her supple cheeks would rush with a flood of olive, almost illuminating an unworldly glow from her complexion. The sculpture of her petite body would arouse and perk with anticipation. But her irises, oh god how the deep color would widen, swallow in a topaz glaze that melted his bones.

"And you can?" Troy asked, suddenly feeling his heart hammer rapidly at the thought of Gabriella discovering his past. Tenderly setting her to the ground, he allowed her to spin in the circle of his arm, her eyes darting over his face as though the answers to all of her questions were hidden beneath his lashes, his cheeks, his lips.

"It's my job, remember?" She softly replied. Sparks were jumping from her lower back to his sturdy forearm, and he felt like a virgin being stroked for the first time once again.

He nodded, a lump swelling in his throat if she did, indeed, complete her task in uncovering what led him to his fate. "Well they have to pay you for something. Unless you have an alternate ego of a striper."

The momentary tension broke and Gabriella rolled her eyes, pushing at his chest to force him to let go. "Nice try Bolton. I really don't think I have a nickname of 'Cherry Angel'."

He pretended to frown. "Dammit…"

Gabriella giggled away from his grasp when they reached the end of the hallway and were greeted with the silver passageway of an elevator. "You'll get over it," she flirted before the bell rang and the double doors opened. "Come on slowpokes, we don't have all day!"

Troy followed after her, his pulse racing enough to become completely oblivious to the hung jaw that dangled off of Chad Danforth's mouth.

* * *

"Can you hand me the spatula?"

"Huh?" Gabriella raised her head from resting on her chin as she dreamily stared into the distance. Her body was arched over the counter of Chad and Taylor's kitchen, while the woman of the apartment bustled around her in an apron. Taylor rolled her eyes and reached over the journalist's slender body, snatching the white cooking utensil. Shifting her tensed muscles, Gabriella flopped back onto the surface only to receive a glare from her best friend. "What?"

"You promised you'd help me test out my new baking stuff!" Taylor huffed and threw her arms up in the air, flour sprinkling down like snow flurries. "I knew I should have called Zeke."

Gabriella let out a low laugh. "Yeah, but Zeke can't tell you that you look hot in your new jeans too," she pointed to the dark skinnies squeezed around her muscular ankles. "Did you tell Chad about those?"

Taylor opened her mouth as though she was going to rebut, but instead clamped her teeth back shut again and frowned at her best friend. "If you say anything to him…"

"Hey, what he doesn't know can't hurt him." Gabriella lifted herself from the comforts of the lax position she was in and reached behind her head in a stretch.

The trio had taken the subway home from Troy's work hours before, and Chad had kindly offered his apartment for occupation as they relaxed for the rest of the evening. Taylor had arrived not long after, with plastic bags dangling from her limbs like Christmas ornaments. Chad nearly had had a heart attack when he saw her purchases and immediately accused her of shopping with Sharpay. Troy and Gabriella awkwardly stood to the side while the argument unfolded; catching wary glances at each other while the couple struggled to keep their voices low. Finally, after Taylor cruelly whipped out her elite skills from her debate class at NYU, Chad stalked out the front door mumbling about going to purchase a new flat screen. Troy hurried after him and promised that he would control his friend's spending limit to five dollars at McDonald's.

Taylor tapped her russet finger against her chin as she stared at the ingredients that were scattered before her. "Should I put M&Ms in, or chocolate chips?"

Gabriella grinned cheekily. "Go big or go home. Put both in."

She collected the bags of candies and sprinkled the contents into the dough, never taking her eyes off her wok. Swift as a surgeon, Taylor's hands worked flawlessly as she flipped on the switch to the mixer. The sound overtook the silence in the kitchen as she beat around the batter, every so often glancing at her best friend. "You wanna grab the cookie sheet?" Taylor yelled over the machine, pointing towards the worn metal that teeter tottered upon the white stove.

After the noise was silenced, Taylor dipped a spoon into the unbaked cookies and handed it to Gabriella. In pure gluttony, she snatched the utensil from her grasp and enclosed her mouth around the goodness. Her toffee eyes rolled into the back of her head simultaneously with her moan. "Mmmm, delicious."

Taylor's black eyes shifted from her own spoon to Gabriella's face, as though she was prolonging what was on her mind. "So Chad and I were talking last night."

"Oh god, there wasn't any broken glass right?" Gabriella teased as she swished her hair back and forth as though searching for a dead body.

She scowled. "Funny. Actually, we were talking about you."

Gabriella froze, not used to the spotlight being directed at her. The spoon hung stupidly from her mouth as she narrowed her eyes, curiosity shooting through her eyes. "Me? What? Why?"

She shrugged in all attempts to be nonchalant. Not meeting her gaze this time, Taylor swayed towards the white bowl holding the unbaked dough and began to scoop little balls and rolled them onto the tray. "Not just you, Troy too."

Gabriella's heart stuttered at the sound of his name. Icebergs glued to her bare feet and found herself bound to the spot she was in. She felt like a preteen once again, being accused of liking a boy who already had a girlfriend. When she finally found her voice, Gabriella's tone was shaky, "Why?"

Taylor continued scooping as though it was a carton of ice cream. "You've been spending a lot of time together lately."

A tape rewound in her head; trying to remember the precious moments she had spent with him since he first showed up with dinner. Three coffee runs, watching The Office on Thursday, Zeke made dinner for the five of them over the weekend, she visited his work, and they walked around for a good hour and almost got mugged. Biting her lip, Gabriella realized that there were many more times she had unaccounted for. "So?"

"I'm just making a statement." She defended and tossed Gabriella a clean spatula to help her distribute the dough.

Gabriella crossed her arms, suddenly annoyed at her accusations. "What? Is there anything wrong with that? Friends hang out."

Taylor rolled her eyes again and flipped her spoon to the side while turning to look at her. "I never said there was. I'm just saying that you two have been pretty close lately and was asking if there was anything going on. I don't think Troy's seen Alicia once this week."

The whites of her eyes flashed green with envy. "Alicia doesn't own him, they're best friends. And he said she's been with her roommates this week. And he starts classes again next week…" Reminding herself that physical therapy was a seven year program and his job was only an internship, Gabriella felt her heart sink at the thought of her being one of the few who graduated early with her impressive grades. Zeke would return to culinary school, Chad to physical education and Taylor for business.

She watched as Taylor shot a glare at her and chucked the metal aid into her batter. Popping her hip out with pure irritation, she shook her head at Gabriella, probably still heightened with rage from her argument with Chad. "There's nothing wrong with you hanging out with him!" She yelled, her normally composed features slightly skewed.

Gabriella matched her aggression, sending ice with her scowl as she widened her stance threateningly. "Let me guess? 'Don't get too close Gabriella, he has a past, he'd be bad for you', right?"

Taylor's face cast in a dark shadow, the fine lines about her brow beginning to narrow with aggression. "I'm not saying that at all."

"Really?" Gabriella rebutted, logic distant from her brain and her guard steaming with the sharp glare she was sending. "Stop acting like my fucking mother, and I can make my own choi…"

"I WAS GOING TO SAY THAT YOU'D BE GOOD FOR HIM!" Taylor roared and flailed her arms, which just so happened to knock against the bowl. All in slow motion, the half sphere spun in the air in an intricate summersault. Wide-eyed with terror, both remained paralyzed as it twisted in slow motion. Before either girl could react, it smashed to the ground, shattering beneath their feet and spilling raw cookie dough everywhere.

Silence stilled the air and guilt immediately formulated in Gabriella's stomach. She had overreacted, and now it was her fault that Taylor broke the bowl. Her best friend's eyes were glued to the floor like blood was drenching the hardwood instead of bake. "Tay…"

Her voice was cut out when she noted her friend still as a statue, until she let out a groan of aggravation. "Great! All that work for nothing!" Taylor cried dramatically and dropped to her knees, forgetting the glass but attempting to gather the batter.

Even against the tension, Gabriella couldn't help but giggle. "You break your bowl and all you care about are the cookies?"

Taylor lifted her eyes, the sources of anger dimmed as she laughed pathetically. "I was hungry."

Gabriella smiled weakly before crouching down as well, glancing over the large pieces of glass that had cracked. Running a hand through her black hair, she sighed with almost embarrassment before reaching towards the sink to retrieve the garbage can. "Let's get this cleaned up."

Both were mute as they delicately picked apart the pieces from the mixture, careful not to slice their fingers on the jagged edges of the bowl. Gabriella was hushed with mortification, for she had acted like an immature teenager once again. They jumbled around the floor awkwardly before finally collecting all the chunks and were now scooping the batter with their hands. She glanced up at her friend with sorrow. "I'm sorry, this is my fault."

Taylor shook her head. "No, I'm just edgy with the whole Chad thing."

Once again, the air was still with the after effects of the storm. Gabriella uncomfortably picked at her now caked nails before chewing on her lip once again. "So um… Troy's really not a criminal?"

"What? No!" Taylor responded with bugged eyes. "I told you that what I knew of, he's not."

Gabriella shrugged weakly. "I know, I just," she raised her gaze once again, the reporter mode once again switching on. "Why did he move to New York?"

Taylor stared at her dumbfounded, her hands halted with almost fear. Gabriella's heart began to stagger once again, a desire bubbling through her throat. "I um.. I think Troy should…"

"He wants me to figure it out," Gabriella jumped all too eagerly, her fingers beginning to twitch with anticipation. "Please Tay, I need to know."

Her best friend swallowed thickly, probably wary to reveal any information that wasn't intended to be released. Sighing with defeat, Taylor threaded a hand through her short crop, tainting the midnight hairs with her floury fingers so she appeared aged. "I um, I don't know details of what happened, honestly I don't," she promised truthfully, yet her speech was both steady and careful. "Chad's told me bits and pieces, but never the full story. I don't even know if he knows."

Gabriella's hopes were crushed as she curled against the cabinets, legs divided as her elbows rested on her knees. "So what do you know?"

Taylor sighed and ran her dusty hand over the surface of her jean covered calf. "I don't want to be the one to say everything, but I know that he moved to New York before Alicia. It was when Chad and I started dating. The first time I ever met Troy was in Chad's dorm. He was drunk, or maybe high who knows, completely and utterly sloshed," her dimmed irises stared distantly at the cabinets as though they were ghostly, like she was reminiscing a horror tale. "He spent the night on the floor, face to the side so he would choke on his puke. The only time he moved was to shove his head in the toilet, puking every piece of shit in his stomach. Chad called me, begging for help while I was with some of my girl friends.

"I thought Chad had been hurt," Taylor continued solemnly, her face hard as stone, "but when I arrived, the room reeked of vomit and Troy was writhing on the floor, moaning about how it wasn't fair. How God should have taken him instead."

She shuttered, eyes glossed over in terror at the memory. "He had gashes running down his cheek and his face was battered. He was sickly thin, and he honestly looked like he just got fucked up in Iraq."

_How God should have taken him instead_. Gabriella wasn't breathing, her lungs had collapsed and her throat was sandpaper. "Who… who died?" She hissed, not even realizing her nails were digging into the soft skin of her arms.

Taylor frowned, truth pouring from her lips. "I have no idea." She honestly replied.

Gabriella's breath was coming in quick pants, blinking uncontrollably. "What, what happened?"

She stared at her for a long, unseeing moment again before her gaze cast down at her new jeans. "I don't know." She whispered almost fearfully.

With that, Taylor once again began to rummage over the floor, searching for any other broken pieces of glass. But Gabriella was a statue, cranks furiously spinning in her head with a vengeance. Scenarios, ideas, replays were pounding into her brain, and never before had she felt so driven to discover more. A need, a crave, a desire raged in her heart. A two weeks had passed of torment, of frustration and incompletion. But now, now she had a lead. A hook. A tiny segment story behind the madness.

Someone had died.

Finally, she had gotten an answer.


	8. Minute Eight

**A/N: For those Americans, I hope you all had an amazing Thanksgiving last week. For all those not American... I'm still thankful for you as readers. Seriously, you guys are amazing. As always, thank you so much for giving me a chance. You guys rock.

* * *

**

"I got your copies."

Stacks of papers flew across the reporter's desk, a disorganized clutter piled in front of the sleek flat screen. A pair of vicious gray eyes lifted from her computer and raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows up at the Hispanic standing before her, tittering on the balls of her low heels. Gabriella's gaze shifted from her boss's face to the daunting clock on the wall, knowing that the last few minutes before leaving for the night always dragged excruciatingly. Sighing dramatically, Rebecca collected the bunch and began to stack them neatly once again, "Did you print two of the Ground Zero article I wrote last week?"

She tried her hardest not to grit her teeth in front of the easy pace of the news room. Through the overlooking windows, the sunbeams cast beaming prisms onto the floor, taunting each employee with the beautiful, beginning of September weather that swirled outside the walls around the city that never slept. The sun was not quite setting, yet the three o'clock time was still providing a painting on the blue horizon. There was nothing more that she wanted than to leave the drowning of copies and masses of staples she was forced to press.

"Yeah, I did." Gabriella stated with an underlying bitterness that on cloudy days may not have surfaced. She cursed the weather gods for torturing her late moments with this injustice.

Rebecca blew through her lips to shift her bangs to the side, though the action appeared more annoyed than reflexive. "Do you have time to highlight some stuff for me?" She casually asked, uncaring in whether or not Gabriella should have been released over ten minutes ago.

"Rebecca," she attempted with the sweetest tone possible, though her lips were curling in pure disgust. "I was supposed to leave twelve minutes ago. I had a short day today."

Short was a relative term. It was anything but quick. Jason had greeted her with a multitask of a wave and a fumble of his camera –which was worth much more than his pathetic life. This left her alone, for the days that Jason was on assignment were boring and unentertaining. She was left with a check list of items from Rebecca, in which she had managed to become experienced in the art of paper stacking and coffee fetching. A month had passed since she first arrived at the Tribute and all she had written was the McDonald's lunch order.

The gossip pouted disapprovingly. "Damn, and I wanted you to finish it before Frank set the assignment for you."

Her heart stopped beating at the words and her eyes flashed to meet Rebecca's. A tingle began to twitch beneath her fingertips and she felt her feet freeze numb. For the first time since she had stepped through the doors to the building, a rush of –dare she say it- excitement washed over her like a fresh sheet of rain. Beneath her black dress pants, her slender legs began to jiggle with anticipation on whether she had heard correctly. Was she lying? She was notorious for spreading rumors around the paper, but would she straight fib to her face?

"A... an assignment?" Gabriella inquired, forcing her voice to remain at a constant level to hide the vulnerable hope that was excluding from her irises.

Her mentor rose slowly, crossing her arms above the blazer that mirrored the coffee stained replica Gabriella had buried beneath her sweatshirts in her closet. "Don't freak out about it, but Frank wants you to start researching."

Gabriella swallowed and prayed to the writing gods that this was not a sick joke they were laughing at. "As in, preparation for an article?"

Rebecca waved her finger like a school teacher disciplining a naughty student. "Don't get ahead of yourself now. It's just on which businesses are prospering in the shitty economy. He's gonna see what you can do under pressure. He assigns it to all the interns," she laughed to herself.

It may not have been a real article, but Gabriella would have written for a church newsletter and she would have been just as ecstatic. "I get to finally write!" She almost squealed triumphantly and hugged Rebecca. Almost is the key word.

The older woman squeezed her eyes and shook her head. "Yeah, not really… but keep telling yourself that."

She could have been told the world was on its final countdown and she wouldn't have noticed the difference. Gabriella practically screamed with joy as she clasped her fingers together behind her back, biting her lip to keep from making obnoxious noises, almost drawing blood.

"Don't go announcing it though. I don't think you're supposed to know." Rebecca added, but had no regrets in the lazy tone of her voice. Gabriella furiously nodded her head, her relaxed curls flowing over her back in eagerness. The tunnel vision of her mind was suddenly drilled upon the next day, her opportunity to finally take a step up from dog girl.

She was so entranced with daydreams that she didn't even notice the phone spring to life at her desk. Rebecca snatched the receiver and wedged it between her navy shoulder pad and her ear. "Vickers," she greeted, listening to the opposite end. Gabriella, even in her euphoria, narrowed her eyes simultaneously as her boss. The hard eyes shot to the intern with perplexity, and for a brief moment her heart stopped pounding believing that she was going to be stripped of her opportunity. "Really? Well I'll let her know."

With that, Rebecca hung up the phone and crossed her arms over the curves of her body. She popped a hip accusingly and began to tap her closed toe heel. "You have someone waiting for you in the front lobby."

Her immediate thought was a breath of relief that she still had the job beginning tomorrow. But then curiosity cast over the olive corners of her face at who would be waiting for her below. "Oh um, then I'll just head down there."

"I'll walk you out." Rebecca demanded rather than offered.

She led Gabriella easily through the stations of reporters for the day was slow in the world. The normal hustle and bustle she was used to was calmed to a relaxed state, even if Gabriella herself was having a party inside her head of triumph. She was careful not to trip over anything with her jittering knees as she collected her purse and briefcase from her cluttered desk for the evening, and quickly followed Rebecca towards the elevator.

Once reaching the first level, their heels clicked on the shiny floor in harmony. The view of a darkened shadow hovering over the front desk against the shimmering sunlight was overpowering, almost frightening as a mysterious silhouette. Rebecca shot Gabriella an almost accusatory look, until the approached closer and the sunshine brightened the bronze surface of his face, glittering prisms of sapphire through his eyes.

A genuine grin crept up her lips the moment she got a first view of him. "Troy!" Gabriella's voice echoed off the vast walls of the entrance. His head lifted and matched her expression, waving with the opposite hand that was not grasping a weaved box. "What are you doing here?"

Troy shrugged, his muscles rolled deliciously under the navy tee with a surfer stamped on the center. Gabriella felt her heart pitter patter as he crossed one arm over his chest and one bicep flexed a powerful ball. He stuck out like a sore thumb as the small scatters of people passed him in their expensive business suits as opposed to his jeans. Yet, it didn't matter to Gabriella, he could have come in boxers and she would have kissed the ground beneath his feet for its holiness.

Rebecca, however, had an unreadable expression on her face. Her head was tilted; eyes squinted in an observatory way as though she was recording data under a microscope. Gabriella felt embarrassed for him and mentally kicked herself for allowing her boss to follow her out.

His stare flickered between her and Rebecca, and he coyly scratched the back of his neck in nervousness. "Is this a bad time? Tay said you were off early today…"

"Do I know you?" Rebecca shot rudely, which made Gabriella's breath momentarily catch.

Troy was unharmed and replied all too smoothly, "No."

His answer was practiced, even Gabriella could tell by the way his gaze never met the woman, yet he never missed a beat. A flashback suddenly surged through her brain, to the first few nights in New York at the cozy Italian restaurant. Troy had been recognized by the waiter, the plump Italian man who swore he had been exposed to that face previously. However, this time, it would not be slipped under the radar again.

"Are you sure I haven't interviewed you before? You look," she pushed, but then shook her head when Troy raised his eyebrows amusedly, almost too perfectly to be real. "Nevermind."

"Okkaay then," Troy drew out the first word, winking at Gabriella in the process. "So do you have to get back to work? Cuz I can always…"

"Where are you taking her?" Rebecca's tone was much smoother as she spoke now; the accusations in her voice had fallen apart and her gray eyes glistened as they trailed upon the beauty of Troy's frame. She shot Gabriella a knowing smirk, and suddenly the younger woman knew that a rumor about screwing a mystery man in the atrium would be circling around the news room bright and early. Jason would most definitely be giving her shit for this one.

Troy lifted the object in his curled hand –a recognizable picnic basket with a crimson blanket spilling from the sides. "Central park for a late lunch. But if you need to keep her, I guess."

"No! No, go on and have fun!" Rebecca directed in a cheery voice. Before Gabriella could even grasp what was happening, a forceful shove pushed against her back. Her chunky heel caught behind her, causing her to tumble towards the rock floor. Just in time for her to topple to the ground, a sturdy arm captured her waist and saved her from embarrassment. Gabriella twisted in his grasp to view a mocking grin.

"Screw you." She mumbled under her breath before staggering upright, Troy attempting to stifle his laughter.

Rebecca flashed one more scheming smile before she wiggled her fingers. "Just be on time tomorrow!" She reminded like an annoying parent.

With that, the blonde swung her hips from side to side as she turned around and marched back towards the elevator. When the obnoxious sound of her clicking heels faded in the distance, Gabriella turned to Troy –who was still giddy with parody. To reward him for his teases, Gabriella slapped his chest angrily. "Shut up, asshole!"

"Awe come on," Troy snickered when his hysterics began to calm. "It was funny."

Playfully, Gabriella spun on her feet and began to stalk to the entrance of the building, employers still filtering in and out of the hall. Troy jogged to catch up to her, matching her shorter strides as she hustled to the door. "And I was all happy and everything when you showed up with lunch, but if you're just going to make fun of me being stuck with Rebecca..."

"Hey, I'm sorry," he grabbed her shoulder once they stepped into the bursting sunshine. Unable to feign her anger any longer, Gabriella twirled to him. Her chocolate eyes glittered with delight as she smiled at the basket her packed for them. "Can I make it up to you with strawberries?" He jiggled the picnic around tauntingly, not caring if all of New York saw a guy with a girly pack.

Gabriella sent him a devious glance. "Are they covered in chocolate?"

Troy licked his lips and Gabriella tried her hardest not to swoon. "You're just gonna have to unwrap them to see."

The flirtation that poured like liquid from her mouth couldn't be contained as she rolled up on her toes, pressing her palm against his shoulder to feel the sturdiness of his figure. She was inches away from his lip, so close that she could taste the scent of his warm breath on her skin. "You wrapped them?"

Troy lowered his forehead, looking through his brow so utterly seductively that Gabriella almost considered changing her underwear on the way over. "I like things tight." He whispered, though pulled away from her teasingly.

"I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

For the record, the strawberries were chocolate covered that sunny afternoon.

"Sorry! I don't mean to keep talking about it!" Troy watched as the scarlet in Gabriella's face flushed adorably, yet her toffee eyes were wild with exhilaration as she stared at him from across the red and orange blanket. Her hand reached into a plastic container holding the plum shade of grapes before popping one into her mouth. Grinning as he observed her actions, Troy released his feet from the pretzel possession and stretched his legs out, soaking in the bliss the sun filtered through the trees.

"I like hearing about it," Troy promised as a bike zoomed by their picnic. "I like hearing about you."

He had instructed her to pick a spot when they first broke through the towering skyscrapers and connected with nature once again. She directed him to a mighty oak tress near one of the winding paths where they could sit in the shade, yet allow the sunshine to shimmer through the leaves. Once settled, she had informed him of the exciting news that Rebecca had given her before he appeared in the lobby.

Gabriella rolled her eyes and shook her tumbling waves. She had stripped her violet cardigan, allowing Troy a perfect view of her olive shoulders beneath the thin straps of her gray camisole. Instead of eating the final grape in her grasp, she chucked it at his stone chest playfully. "Sucking up will get you nowhere in life, Bolton."

"Awe, damn," he grinned cheekily before nudging closer to where she was sprawled in her black work pants, wiggling her toes that were freed from her heels. "Seriously though, I'm really happy for you."

Gabriella smiled softly while training her gaze down to the meal once again. "Thank you. If you can't tell… I'm sorta excited."

Raising an eyebrow mockingly, Troy chuckled. "No shit!" Another grape smacked his chest. He sent her an icy glare at her series of giggles across the way. Her back rolled and she lay flat, staring up at the crystal sky in pure hysterics. "I swear to fucking god if you throw another one."

"You'll what?" Gabriella swung upwards, locking her fingers as her palms cupped her knees. Her challenge was almost seductive, enough for Troy's gaze to flicker to the glossed skin puffed on her lips as she tauntingly lifted another grape. His skin suddenly burned, a longing to graze his palm against hers was almost unbearable.

"Ditch you and steal the food." Amusement threaded through his tone as he leaned forwards, daring her to throw it.

Gabriella sighed and tossed back her hair again, before shooting her eyes to him and lofting the fruit. Smirking, Troy shifted on the blanket until the grape fell right above his mouth, and landed onto his tongue with perfection. His arms raised in triumph as he swallowed. "Beautiful!" She announced and clapped her hands together. He couldn't help but stare at her as she mouthed the word, thinking that there was something much more beautiful than the shot just taken.

"When did you become a hoops star?" Troy asked while reaching for a napkin and wiped his mouth clean of crumbs.

Her eyes twinkled as they met his; a glow off his skin illuminated at the sun struck her flesh at the perfect angle. A rustle of the wind swirled through the leaves, though Troy was intently focused on the woman before him. "I'm not," she carefully replied, never once shifting her gaze. "What made you a hoops star?"

Troy suddenly knew where this was going like a prickle down his spine. He swallowed, strategically formulating both an answer and an escape plan if this conversation became too risky. But Gabriella was persistent in her hunt. "Um, I used to watch my dad practice. He was the coach at my high school."

Gabriella nodded, folding her legs beneath her bottom and watching him intently. "Right, you mentioned that."

A warm smile was directed toward her for her memory. "Yeah. and I wanted to be just like him, so I picked up a ball and," his eyes fluttered closed, reveling in the image of his fingers first trailing over the bumpy surface of the orange sphere. He could still remember the smell of rubber staining his little hands and the weight of the ball was almost as much as his head beneath his grasp. "I guess I fell in love."

"Chad makes it seem like you were Michael Jordan in high school." She drummed her fingers against the soft surface of the blanket.

"Yeah," Troy replied with a shrug. "I was good."

"Then what happened to college ball?" Her voice was nonchalant, but a sudden siren sparked in Troy's heart. No. That was too dangerous towards the reason why he stopped. The vulnerability could be heightened with this topic. He would not allow it to progress any further.

Troy's eyes cast sideways, watching the wind wrinkle the grass delicately and a speeding father and daughter rushing by on out of control roller-skates. The long pause lingered in the air longer than he anticipated before he finally turned back and was overwhelmed by the curiosity in her chocolate eyes. "When I was six I won a Laker's jersey."

Gabriella's cheeks drooped at his shift in conversation, but she couldn't help to widen her eyes, impressed. "Really?"

He chuckled, nudging closer to her ever so slightly, though his subtly was about as obvious as the Statue of Liberty. "Yeah. It was signed and everything. With a fourteen on the back too."

The plucked line of her eyebrows shot up once again. "Fourteen?"

"It's um," Troy explained, though he felt an embarrassment rush through his veins as his face turned hot. "It's kinda my… my number for like, everything."

"Interesting." Gabriella pondered –God did he crave to know what she was thinking.

"I know, make fun. I'm a fucking twenty-four year old and I have a lucky number." He almost groaned. Gabriella unexpectedly swiveled to her knees, carefully crawling inches closer to him, increasing the atmosphere between them by what felt like fourteen degrees. When she finally halted, the scent of flowers wafted towards him, amplified more than the fumes of sun that spilled around their picnic. The breeze tickled the curls of her ebony hair and the temptation to threat his fingers through each fiber was overwhelming his nerve endings.

Cautiously –as though his flesh was a time bomb waiting to burst- Gabriella slid her palm over his with grace. He felt fire race through his blood when his eyes locked with hers, heart thumping wildly when she squeezed.

"It will be our little secret."

* * *

Troy had had a million and one study nights with Alicia –"studying" being a very loose term. After the fateful nightmare had banished him from the steamy streets of Los Angeles, he and Alicia made "studying" a daily routine. Pushing her away that first night their lips met made him weak, and sunset after sunset they found themselves between the sheets, naked as newborns but not as innocent. However, those nights were hardly easy to commence with their dorm situations.

The woman who had been assigned to Alicia's room was… bizarre, to say the least. The turquoise facial piercings covered her face like chicken pox, yet she found pleasure in dressing herself in yellow pants and orange band tees. She had a boyfriend who rarely showered, with his white hair so greasy he hadn't even needed gel to spike his Mohawk. Once, she had informed Alicia that she would be out of town for the entire week following Slipnot or what's-it-band, therefore Troy and Alicia jumped on the opportunity to exercise the study of the naked human body and the reproductive system in her crammed dorm room. However, the woman barged in while Troy's pants were to the floor and Alicia's lips at his tip. The strangest part of the situation was she barely reacted. Troy, mortified and unclothed, scrambled to grab his boxers while the roommate tilted her head and told him that he had an average dick for his height and the mole on his left hip looked like a chocolate chip. Then she waltzed out the door and left once again.

Troy's living arrangements were only slightly better. He cohabitated with a math genius, who broke the status quo and was surprisingly striking in his appearance. His ego was about the size of his IQ, and he used his drowning baby blues to swim his way into a woman's vagina. When he wasn't gloating about his skills on limits, he was sucking faces with particularly ditzy girls. Troy still had nightmares about returning from a movie with Alicia to listen a blonde bimbo screaming how she wanted him to name all the digits of pi while reaching her orgasm. He would never be able to find the volume of a cylinder again without the gruesome pictures rushing through his head.

Life after escaping the dorms was easier, Troy had his own apartment and Alicia's roommates were courteous about their privacy. Although the number of sexual encounters dramatically decreased after the first two years after his late fiancé's death, if the occasion presented prove they were ungodly horny, it was much easier to reach coherison without interruption.

However, while studying that particular evening, the only thing on Troy's mind was the tendon fibers in a calf muscle…

…and Gabriella's ass.

"I swear to God my head is going to explode." Alicia rubbed the temples through her caramel hair and squeezed her eyes shut. Across the couch, Troy chuckled while being careful not to knock her feet that were rested in his denim covered lap.

"You're the one who wanted to be a lawyer." Troy pointed out, easing himself carefully into the crevice of the couch.

The three other inhabitants of the flat had one by one disappeared into the New York night, all closing their bedroom doors as though they were shielding evil from their chambers. Troy had arrived at her home about two hours ago, after walking Gabriella safely back to her apartment complex and swinging the picnic basket like a giddy school girl.

"I know, I know! But I thought maybe I'd be _done _with this shit after I graduated! I've been going to school since I was fucking five years old, I don't want to be studying at twenty-five!" She huffed and slammed her reading to a rumbling close.

"Um, you're twenty-four remember?" Troy once again played devil's advocate, which only earned him a sore chest from the pencil she chucked at him and a dig of her heel into his thigh. "Watch it! There's seriously valuable property down there." His large hands cupped his crotch to protect himself from her beatings.

Alicia slowly rolled onto her knees, though rolling her intense eyes in the process. "You could do without one testicle," By reflex, his immediate fear was not being able to perform up to par in bed with Gabri... with a woman. However, his exotic fantasies were demolished when he turned to find Alicia massaging her eyelids. "Can we take a break? If I read one more precedent I will slit my throat."

"That could get messy, and I don't want to clean it up," He mocked before swiveling his head around as though it was on a loose ball. "Hey, where's your remote?"

Crawling over the center of the sofa, Troy excavated for the gold mine of the television. His hands probed beneath the cracks of the pillows, too entranced in his mission to even realize his best friend was biting her lip suggestively. "Troy." Alicia breathed, his name cut through the air like a knife in melted butter.

His head shot up from its focus, mouth hanging opened and chestnut hair tousled. "Yeah?"

Alicia leaned towards him, green eyes darkening with lust as her palm cupped the curve of his cheek. By habit, Troy felt his neck muscles tilt towards her touch. "Screw the remote." She whispered dangerously while tugging at his ear. Her eyes fluttered closed as she arched up and closed the thick air between their lips.

They hadn't kissed since the fateful evening of his ex-fiancé's birthday. Yet, for a brief moment, it was as though no time had passed between. Unable to control his natural impulses, his fingers slithered between the thick strands of her hair. Her lips tasted salty of the buttered popcorn they had consumed a half hour before as the strength of his arms carefully pulled her abdominals towards his. She grasped his shirt, firing her tongue between the barrier of his teeth and reacquainting to the cavern of his mouth.

He momentarily became obliterated to all that had occurred the past few weeks. The intoxicating sensation that someone wanted him overwhelmed his senses, shoved his consciousness aside. Animalistic reactions veered his thoughts as she clawed at his navy tee, pulling him sensually to cover her body with his. He became lost –relished in the way her hands were coaxing down his side. "You taste," she paused for a breath before diving into the kiss once again, Troy's groan rumbling in desire. "like chocolate."

Like a blinding white light, Troy suddenly halted and was once again slammed with reality and became surrounded with one thought: Gabriella.

Her laugh filled the silence in his ears, deafening the smacking of their mouths and the moans from Alicia's throat. Consumed by the pleasure of her skin against his, he momentarily was numbed to Alicia's caresses. Troy's eyes shimmered, painting the image of Gabriella's inviting curves across his brain. The scent of her sweet perfume wafted through his nostrils.

What the hell was he doing? A few blocks away, the girl who he was falling for was probably snuggled into bed, preparing for her exciting day and here he was, kissing some other girl. The feeling of mud cast over his skin, a filthy cake of dirt dusted in his hair. Cheating wasn't possible, for he was not dating the Latina. However, Troy felt just as unfaithful, and his heart immediately squeezed with guilt. He despised cheaters; in his eyes they were worse than the devil himself.

Troy yanked his lips from between her teeth, heart hammering with betrayal. "Alicia."

She was frozen, eyes wide and horrified. "What?" She croaked, voice slightly hitched from both breathlessness and pain.

He swallowed thickly, carefully peeling away from her clutches. "I don't… I don't think this is a good idea."

Doe-eyed and irritated, she released her hold on his biceps. "Um, why?" She bitterly asked which may have derived from her lack of pleasure, or her plain anger than Troy was rejecting a behavior they had participated in for so long.

He took a steady breath, collecting both his thoughts and his stillness. Now was not the time to get into an argument with her, but the way her green eyes were brilliantly scary told him things may get slightly heated. "I just, I've got a lot going on right now, and I think I should get going." He lied, not quite sure why he didn't want to flat tell her his true motives.

Scratching the back of his neck, he watched as her hard features became fierce. Yet, she was trying to cover the rejection by flipping her hair and dangling her feet over the side of the sofa. "Yeah, I got shit to do too." She mumbled unconvincingly.

Troy gnawed on the inside of his cheek until he was about to draw blood. "Leesh…"

Alicia whirled around as she stood and gathered her literature, eyes blazing like emeralds. She feigned a smile, one that could have terrified children on Halloween. "I'll call you tomorrow alright? You know the way out."

Huffed and furious, Alicia jerked away from where he was seated with the dumbfound expression on his face. Without pausing to look behind her, she marched towards her bedroom and slammed the door with a rattle, leaving Troy in complete and lonely silence.


	9. Minute Nine

**A/N: As always, thank you so much for everyone reading. It really does mean the world to me. The response to the last chapter was amazing, so thank you so much. I hope you guys like this one.**

**And if you feel comfortable, I posted a one shot about Christmas It's in my profile, it's a little risque but I wanted to know what people thought of my first person style. Thanks so much. You guys rock.

* * *

**

She knew.

It wasn't a secret; in fact it was so blatantly obvious that she was offended that he was trying to hide it from her. He had barely called her all week, and when he did they were short conversations in a hurried tone that left a lasting impression that he was distracted. Yes, the factor that most of his time was consumed with the few classes he had at NYU still to prepare for his doctorate, but it almost seemed as though he made more of an effort the previous year when he was officially enrolled as a full time student. There was no denying that there was now another woman in Troy Bolton's life.

As Alicia sat behind the mahogany desk of the prosecution, her mind was else where and away from the battery trial that was swirling around her like a black and white movie. The lead lawyer stood before the judge, charismatically sealing the case without as much as a question. Drowning in her thoughts, Alicia remained motionless, bright eyes staring distantly at the podium and replaying the scene of two nights ago over and over and over in her mind.

The initial attraction to Troy Bolton was not as defined as one believed. Yes, she couldn't deny that the way he strutted into her ethics class freshman year set her cheeks to a tingle. Yet, she had just sliced ties with her gambling boyfriend of three years back in Sacramento a few weeks previous to their meeting. Her heart was raw, yet her skin was thick to guard those perpetrators –especially those who were cocky. She could still remember the scarlet, "Wildcats" basketball t-shirt he was dressed in, with a captain's sign on his shoulder and a smirk that was worth a spot in the Louvre. He had flipped his then-shaggy bangs in her direction and a twinkle sparkled in his irises. After the first eye contact, Alicia tumbled quickly into love.

At that point in his life, he had been arrogant, for the world had always been at his feet through high school and college seemed to be no different. He was a party boy, no denying that on a Friday night, he would be found on his fifth game of beer pong or with his head in the toilet after a date with tequila. But to Alicia, she shoved aside his imperfections and cherished the week nights curled up in the Californian dorms watching the latest episode of 24 until basketball season began to consume his life, even if he could be a pompous asshole. Yet, he still held true to her friendship, even if it meant 2 AM ice cream runs after a five hour practice.

He had been snatched beneath her fingertips so long ago; hypnotized by love the fateful night the Bruins faced off against Syracuse at home court. Alicia had been naïve to love at the time, infatuated with the rookie point guard who began to turn heads. She had easily attracted boys at her high school level almost instantly, but in the higher education, her luck ran short. Troy was too focused on the next game or party to notice when she trembled at his touch or dreamt of his kiss. That was, until her world came crashing down.

As she sat before the crowed gathered for the convicted, she slipped into the haunt of heartbreak when she discovered the news. Sick and exhausted of beating around the bush, so she concocted the plan to pronounce her feeling for him. However, every time she was given the opportunity while he was sprawled across her futon or shoving his face with greasy pizza, her normally confident demeanor slipped and she shrunk away once again.

But none of that mattered the night of the Duke game. Even with crossed legs beneath the prosecution desk, the stab of the knife in her heart when he came bursting through the door with a giddy grin on his face burned like the wound was still raw. He had sat and gushed about the blonde beauty he smashed into that evening while Alicia struggled to feign smiles and pretend like she was happy for him. Her stomach had been viciously turning, but she tried to compensate that maybe, just maybe this girl would just disappear from his mind after a short amount of time -two weeks, for example. She prayed that in fourteen days, she would just be a ghost of a crush.

Instead, it took fourteen days until Troy Bolton finally asked her out.

But as the judge announced a recess in the court, Alicia felt dizzy from the sensation that she was losing her best friend, once again, to the aspiring journalist. There was no other option, she was well aware of the time he spent with her. The previous night was not about him having things going on. It had everything to do with Gabriella Montez. She could see it in the twinkle of his eyes and the laughter of his voice. He hadn't been this blissful, this excited about anyone else since… since he had been swiped from her embrace freshman year.

And as Alicia rose in the courtroom and glared at the pesky reporters furiously scribbling behind her, she hoped that maybe this time, fourteen days would work out the way it was supposed to when he first saw his dead fiancée.

* * *

"Can I ask him if he murdered this dead person?"

Gabriella shot her head around with wide eyes towards her coworker strutting beside her. "What? No!" Her spiraled curls whipped around in the warm wind and smacked Jason's paled cheeks. He puffed her strands off of where they stuck to his lips and flipped his shaggy hairstyle as they hurried along the sidewalk beneath the towering buildings.

"Awe come on Gabs, if you're not gonna ask I want to!"

She had received a call thirty minutes before on her way out of the Tribute with Jason at her side. Immediately, the greeting she was presented with was instead demands from Sharpay that she meet at the coffee shop where apparently her friends were gathered. Gabriella initially turned down the offer, for she had just been released from the dragging news room with a shoo from Frank and was about to catch a celebratory lunch with Jason. However, her phone shrilled a mere fourteen seconds after she hung up with Sharpay, only to be persuaded with the hypnotic seduction of Troy's coax. He had approved of the friend to come along –although Gabriella hadn't specified what gender the co-worker was.

The threat in Gabriella's eyes was dangerous, almost murderous as she glared at him, "Behave, alright?" She warned as the evergreen building came into full view against the cloudy sky.

Jason saluted in jest, "Aye, aye Madame Journalist!"

Gabriella felt a rush of a blush flood her cheeks. A week had passed since her break-through performance in front of the keyboard on the epic research she took on the assignment given to her. Just as Rebecca had forecasted, Frank had lumbered into work the following morning with his infamous scowl and barked orders to discover every business in the metro-area and dig to prove that there were prosperous companies in the dark times of the economy. All too excited, she typed at secretary speed and plopped a seven paged, single-spaced summery of her findings on his desk two hours later. After receiving a skeptical glance from both Rebecca and Frank on whether or not she copied from Wikipedia, he failed to hide the impressive nods and returned the next day with a sequel just to be sure her skills were not sheer dumb luck. It may not have been a headline, but it was a step up from coffee runs.

"You ready?" She asked while her hand was stroking the handle of the door after they had reached the entrance. Jason gave her a warm smile and nodded his head like a little kid about to step through a candy shop.

"Let's meet tall dark and handsome."

The easy chatter surrounded the two as they walked through the threshold, the scent of ground beans wafting in their noses. Jason released the final hole to his red work button-up at the homey atmosphere that clattered with the clean dishes and steady slurps. After glancing towards the cash register and sending Kelsi a bright wave, she caught his amused eye as he scanned the costumers in all attempts to pinpoint the one that had captured Gabriella's picky attention.

Taylor was the first of the five to notice their arrival. She rose from the seated position of her squishy chair in the lowered section of the shop, stare bright and shining, "You made it!" She announced to the room.

Her heart skipped a beat when she watched Troy's intense gaze at the paper he was reading –The Tribute to be exact- lifted at the sound of her heels. There was momentary glitter in his eyes when they landed upon her and heat burst beneath her skin. The other occupants of the store faded behind the bronze skin and the plaid shirt in the cozy chair.

But the brief connection was suddenly severed, for Jason suddenly came in his line of view. Troy's soft stare was suddenly clouded with curiosity, or maybe even distaste. The frown that fell before his lips was not hidden, and Gabriella swore she saw a flash of green in the whites of his eyes before Gabriella finally brought herself from his trance.

"Yeah, sorry we're late," Gabriella slowly apologized, well aware of the daggers the basketball coach was drilling into the back of her neck. Clearing her throat slightly, she spun around to face her coworker. "Guys, this is Jason Cross. He's a photographer at The Tribute. Jase, this is, well, the guys." She scanned her hand to reference the group of friends: Zeke and Sharpay cuddled on the couch, Chad on the opposite end with Taylor in the seat nearest him and Troy, who was slouched in his squishy chair.

"Hi Jason!" The four greeted with enthusiasm, though Gabriella hadn't heard the velvet tone of Troy's voice in the harmony.

Jason waved, not leaving room for any awkwardness with the bright smile on his lips, "Hey guys." He slapped his hand back to his knee.

Zeke untwined himself from Sharpay's limbs and rose, politely ushering the newcomers to join them. Jason smiled cheekily at his hospitality and did not hesitate to plop a squat between both Chad and Zeke. The two men personally greeted him with a handshake that immediately turned into one of those intricate handshakes only the male species understood. Gabriella, however, lowered herself on the arm of Taylor's chair while watching Jason's eyes shift to the odd man out, probably putting the pieces together on his identity.

The dark shade of his irises double-took, immediately narrowing with a vague recognition. He glanced at her inquisitively with a masked nod towards Troy, and Gabriella gave a quick jolt of her head in a nod of conformation, which only perplexed the photographer more. Gabriella felt her heart quicken at the actions and of something that was not quite right with the look in Jason's face.

"So you work with our Gabs?" Chad shot her a cheeky look. "I feel sorry for you."

"Hey!" She snapped momentarily out of her trace to shoot him a glare, just before he stuck his tongue out in mockery. "Fuck off poodle-boy."

Jason snickered, obviously amused with this banter. However, he once again turned his attention back to the chair across from him. As though it was expected, Troy hadn't moved once when the spotlight was turned onto him. "Sup man. Jason Cross." He extended a confident hand out; the ceruleans flickering between his outstretched introduction and his face.

Almost grudgingly, Troy met his grasp half way. "Troy Bolton. What's up, man?"

Although she let out an easy breath, Gabriella was nowhere near relaxed. She could see the outline of Troy's tense muscles beneath his button up as he spoke with Jason, there was an almost hazy tension that hung around his shoulders. The stiffness was a foreign side to him; she was so used to his excited and optimist personality. This made her squirm slightly, what else was lingering in his shielded life?

"Have we," Jason began to question, "met before? I could have sworn I've taken shots of you or something."

Chad immediately became rigid at the innocence of the presented. However, Gabriella took careful, mental notes on the way Troy never staggered. The accusation caused no effect of his still silky sound of his voice. "I get that a lot." He hushed, folding up the newspaper and tapping it with the back of his palm to add to a bizarre, yet obnoxious effect.

Gabriella was so absorbed with the exchange that she completely forgot she was in the presence of others. "How was work?" Taylor asked casually, leaning back into the cushions of the furniture –clearly obvious to the ping pong occurring between the two.

In reflex and daze, Gabriella shrugged, "Slow." She responded in monotone, barely registering that someone was speaking with her.

Sharpay noted the journalist's distance. She swiftly snapped her fingers in front of Gabriella's vision, breaking her stare from the two boys and turned to face the annoyed blonde. "Wake up," Sharpay's order was both defined and rude. When Gabriella was unresponsive, the actress's eyes rolled with irritation before she waved her hand behind her. "Kelsi!" she summoned the friendly employee who had just passed in her dirty apron, her presence finally breaking Gabriella's stare. "We need caffeine for this girl. Stat."

"Please." Taylor added kindness to the order.

Kelsi, after adjusting her glasses, sent Gabriella a closed mouth smile. "Vanilla latte?" Kelsi asked, referencing the common drink Gabriella ordered when she visited the place.

"You're amazing." She thanked before watching the petite woman shuffle towards the counter once again, unaware of the two sets of eyes locked upon her.

The first she noticed was Jason's, who had a similar expression on his face as he did a moment before while interrogating Troy. Leaned forward with his elbows upon his knees, he jerked his head in the direction of the young student who just walked away. "Who's your friend?" He mumbled lowly, quiet enough that most of the others seemed to be deaf while discussing if mozzarella cheese was better than asiago.

"Kelsi Neilson. She goes to NYU," Gabriella informed him, watching as his eyes followed her curiously as she hustled behind the scenes. "Why?"

"Huh…" Jason almost sighed as though deeply in thought. "No reason."

She opened her mouth to rebut, however, something much more appealing than a pathetic argument with Jason rose from his seat across the way. Heart skipping, Gabriella watched as Troy soundlessly turned in the direction of the register. Not wanting to sacrifice a moment alone with him, Gabriella shot to a stance and almost flung her arm around to knock over Sharpay's drink. "Watch it, or you're buying me a new one!" Sharpay snapped, though it went unheard as Gabriella hurdled over the coffee table –not to mention stumbling as she landed on her heel and mildly twisted her ankle- before her and hobbled to meet his turned back. Whether the rest of the friends were snickering or not was beyond the point. Gabriella only had eyes for Troy.

Attempting to be as casual as physically possible, Gabriella continued to stumble until she reached his side, easily popping her hip to the counter. Troy didn't move from his intense stare up at the menu, however it was almost as though a sign was above her head, pointing to the ponytail her hair was gathered in to indicate she was there. His arms crossed as the employee opposite to Kelsi requested his order of black coffee.

"To match your heart?" Gabriella finally spoke once the girl shrugged away. Her jest was timid and almost shy unlike their usual exchanges that were filled excitement.

Troy finally turned to face her and weakly curled his lips in a closed mouth smile. "Funny Montez."

A sigh whistled through her lips. She glanced down at her feet, squeezed into heels and her gray pants dangled around her ankles. "Troy," Gabriella raised her head and locked their stare once again, feeling the pierce of his irises into hers. Slowly, as though it might bite her, she cupped his elbow in her palm which seemed to take him by a brief surprise with the widening on his eyes, "what's going on?"

He shook his head and treaded his fingers through the tiny hairs on the back of his neck –a habit Gabriella had become familiar with his nerves. Swallowing thickly, he gazed at her through the nonexistent arch of his bushy brow. Never once did he shrug her hand off, "Why would you think there's something wrong?"

"Troy," Gabriella tilted her head knowingly, "stop alright?"

"Stop what?" Troy innocently asked with the sense of cockiness and mockery found in the tone of his voice. Even in her attraction to his mysterious edge and hidden nature, the way he was skirting around the confession was beginning to annoy the shit out of her. It was painfully obvious he was bothered by something Jason had either said or his presence. Gabriella wanted to dust the bottom of the situation before either left in an awkward huff.

Her fingers failed with irritation as she pointed to nothing. "This whole shitty attitude thing. You were the one who told me I could bring my friend."

Immediately, his eyes softened at the casual reference to Jason. This ignited a spark in her chest, a fuel that the inborn profiler collected. The falter of his guard meant jealousy had potentially trickled through his veins when Jason first marched in with her. "Friend?" Troy asked with his eyebrows raised.

Gabriella nodded without hesitation. "Friend."

Silence overtook them as Troy searched her face for any signs of dishonesty. Unable to contain herself, she sharply gasped when his gaze lingered upon the soft pillows of her lips.

"Um, Troy?" A gentle voice sliced through their stare. Gabriella was forced to pry her fingers from his arm when Kelsi leaned over the dark counter with a steaming cup of caffeine in her hands that slightly fogged her glasses and blew against the short curls of her hair.

Troy sent her a warm smile before receiving the drink, "Thanks Kels."

For a brief moment, Gabriella considered dumping the contents of his java all over the front of his pants so his dick would burn and he would no longer be able to screw Alicia when he passed without a notion of recognition in front of her. It hardly seemed fair that he would ignore her when she brought an innocent friend to a coffee house while he was fucking the brains out of Alicia. Her scowl dug daggers into his back and she almost reached down to receive her heel to chuck at him when suddenly, he whirled around with fire in his eyes as he stepped towards her.

"You just gonna stand there?"

Gabriella's mouth unhinged in shock and irritation at his tease. He was taunting her cruelly, but switching his emotions to be sure that she was on her toes. Either that or he was much too satisfied with the response of innocent friendship with Jason. Whatever game it was, Gabriella wasn't sure if she wanted to slap him more or kiss him soundlessly for his sharp twist of mood. "I…"

She would have probably preferred the latter, however, when the balls of his fingers tenderly curled around her own. They weren't laced, and he wasn't quite holding her hand, just pads connected. The heat of his hand burned against hers for the fourteen seconds he delicately coaxed her back to the rest of their friends. "Come on," he mumbled in her ear as he ushered her to the chair he had occupied previously by the small of her back. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

"You too." She whispered, easing herself into the chair and becoming lost in his eyes once again as he settled on the curve of the arm.

* * *

The lunch rush of the petite coffee shop had diminished. All was quiet except the gentle clatter of dishes behind the counter and the even keystrokes of middle aged man in a business suit hidden in the corner with his laptop. The seven friends that had gathered around the deep wood of the coffee table an hour before had all scattered but the two curled on the couch. Zeke had to leave to prepare for his shift at the restaurant, followed by a complaining Sharpay that she would have no one to take her to the Gucci store. Taylor and Chad parted with a devious look in their eyes and with the scandalous caresses they had given; Gabriella wouldn't be surprised if they spent the rest of the afternoon between the sheets. Troy parted, with a tight squeeze of a hug, for he had to change to head over to the high school for a weekly off-season practice with the players.

"I've seen him before," Jason thought out loud, with the white cardboard of his cup pressed to his lips. "I know I have."

Gabriella sighed and leaned into the tight division of the pillows, "Rebecca thought she knew him too." She stared distantly at the homey paintings that decorated the walls as though they were maps of his past, of what he was hiding.

"Are you sure he lived in California? Cuz maybe I played him in high school." He referenced the fact that he had been decent on his high school basketball team in his hometown in South Carolina. This was before he received an art scholarship for his photographs –though he originally began as a director. However, after the frustration of losing over and over at a local film festival to the town drama geek, he began snapping pictures instead and immediately drew the attention of his photography teacher. Winning a large sum of money for a nature competition not only boosted his confidence and cockiness, but it led him to a life at NYU. While he was still a slight jock at heart, the media and art had brought a focus to his once oblivious mind.

She shook her head defiantly. "No. He grew up in Albuquerque. Apparently he was a hotshot there."

"Troy Bolton," Jason mumbled as though saying the word brought a distant memory. "I still think I've heard him on America's Most Wanted."

Gabriella rolled her eyes and licked the edges of her lips to clear them of excess coffee, "Someone died Jason. At least that's what Tay said."

He cocked an eyebrow, "Did she ever say he killed this person?"

Growing irritated at his idiotic jokes and obsession with Troy as a murderer, Gabriella pushed his straggling hair in annoyance. She was unaware of the petite student who lingered behind their couch, listening intently to the conversation that was unfolding, "I just, I don't get why everyone knows who the hell he is!"

"Are you talking about Troy?"

It was as though she was once again in middle school and a teacher had caught her discussing his man-boobs when Gabriella fearfully turned around to see Kelsi standing before them with her circular tray in hand. Her eyes appeared as owls as they shifted between the two whom were frozen to their spots. Hand in the cookie jar, Gabriella slowly opened her mouth and attempted to conjure some excuse to their gossip, "Erm…"

"I'm sorry!" Kelsi immediately exclaimed, her face flushed in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to interrupt something!"

Jason and Gabriella caught a wary glance with each other, yet the reporter let out a shaky sigh that she was not going to tattle of their nosiness, "No, not at all." Jason promised with a warm voice.

Chewing on her lip, Gabriella contemplated whether or not her natural impulses could show through, or if she would be shunned by this college student by her pesky nature. However, Gabriella was unable to hold her curiosity when she finally decided to deal with the consequences as they were delivered to her, "What do you know about his past?"

"His past?" Kelsi asked in surprise. Gabriella was thankful for the slowness of the shop, otherwise she would not have this opportunity to grill this woman.

"Yeah," she leaned forward like a detective solving a crime, hand on her chin and elbow upon her crossed knee. "Anything unusual about him?"

The employee shrugged her tiny shoulders, Gabriella too enthralled with the possibility of answers to notice the faint blush on Jason's cheeks. "I met him a year ago, right after I got hired here. We don't um… I'm not really that close to him."

Gabriella's grin flipped upside down, "Oh…"

"He came in once to watch me play with Taylor." Kelsi smiled shyly as she tossed her head backwards towards a door that apparently led to a backroom.

"Play?" Jason inquired.

Red as an apple, Kelsi nodded her head bashfully -ducking her head away in pure embarrassment as she teeter tottered on her brown ballet flats, "I um… I've been playing piano since I was young. I used to um… I used to compose in high school," she chewed on her lip as she considered revealing the next bit of information. "I play at nine o'clock on Thursday nights."

Gabriella couldn't help but feel a swell of kindness towards the girl. Reaching towards her pale fingers, Gabriella rested her hand on the sturdy wood of the coffee table, grinning comfortingly. Jason, whether he picked up on Gabriella's cues or was supportive on his own, leaned forward encouragingly, "Gabs and I would love to hear you play."

If she had been ruby before, Kelsi became scarlet, "I'm not very good."

"I'm sure you're wonderful."

Excited at a potential audience, Kelsi practically bounced in her seat. A complete change in her demeanor from coyness to enthusiasm illuminated her face, so her curls sprung and her cheeks glowed. Gabriella giggled, unable to help herself at the giddy reaction of her friend, "You should come this Thursday! I mean, if you're not busy."

"I'm in." Jason pronounced without hesitation.

The pianist beamed with delight with Jason matching her excitement. Catching a final glance at her coworker, Gabriella nodded her head in agreement, "Sounds great. I'll ask Taylor too."

Leaning back against the cushions once again, Gabriella let the chatter fade around her, distantly staring blankly ahead. She became lost in thoughts of work and –surprise, surprise- Troy. Slowly, she was attempting to piece together what she knew and what was still a mystery. The unknown was much vaster than what she was aware of, and it seemed that she would have to be selective on who had knowledge. Kelsi was also naïve to it, but the thought of approaching the rest of her friends slightly scared her. But weeks had past and the only thing she had collected was that someone died.

So consumed with her thoughts, Gabriella didn't even notice the subtle smiles both Kelsi and Jason were sending each other across the squishy furniture in the comforts of the cozy coffee house.


	10. Minute Ten

**A/N: I don't normally do this, but this chapter is dedicated to four amazing authors: Savannah O'Ryan, Unproper Grammar, HPincognito247, and especially sunnycouger. Whether they're reading or not, their incredible support was there when I was really struggling. Their advice set me straight on a path that is going to make me happy while writing again, so thank you so much. The least I can do is play PR for them, so if _anyone _hasn't read their work, please shut down this window and go read theirs. If I could have the amount of talent in my entire body that these four authors have in their pinkies, I will be satisfied for life.**

**Thank you everyone else for not giving up on me yet. Your reviews and responses are amazing. I hope you're still enjoying the story.

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Although Troy would never say it to her face, he hated that Alicia was a lawyer.

He wasn't going to deny her brilliance. In fact, there was no one more stubborn or flawless for the job than Alicia. Her tough skin and hard will was immovable. When push came to shove, she refused to be thrown around like a rag doll. Whether she was right or wrong was up to interpretation, but even if the gravel had been slammed, she refused to admit her incorrectness. Most importantly, it scared Troy shitless. He was terrified that someday, some psychopathic killer would sneak a gun into the court room and cap her when she least expected it. He couldn't deny that every time she strutted before the judge, he feared she wouldn't come out alive.

Physically deterring wasn't the only concern he had. Mentally, Troy had seen her shattered and beaten until the tears poured so commonly down her face that her eyes had been forever tainted red. The nightmare of leaping into his arms after day upon day with the worthless scumbag of a professor hammered into his brain like a broken record. Never had he seen Alicia so fragile, as though her skin would crumble like sand if he hand touched her, kissed her with too much passion. It was a year after she followed him to the east coast that she sobbed in his tight grasp, screaming that she would be dammed for letting the sick bastard walk free. Troy frantically hushed her, pressing his lips to every inch of her skin to promise that she was decent, that she would never have to experience that again. That night, Troy had been helpless while he caressed her, touched her with care. The strength she carried pooled to the floor with her clothes as he stripped her. It was the sole moment of vulnerability she had ever produced, and Troy prayed that he would never experience it again.

Therefore, he couldn't help but feel bitter as he sat on the wooden bench outside the towering building of the courtroom. The Roman columns that supported the structure loomed over the navy work polo he was dressed in. He scoffed the black leather of his shoes, not particularly caring if they became dirty, for he had an early appointment and was free of classes that day.

The few minutes he had been waiting, his eyes had gravitated towards the tiny mob of cameras that formed at the entrance to the court. He found himself squinting his gaze with an uneven pitter patter that maybe one of the reporters spoke for The Post, maybe one of them would know Gabriella by first name. That one of them would be able to confirm that Jason was indeed just a friend and nothing more.

Sighing, Troy dropped his gaze to the contrast of his shoes on the sidewalk once again, remembering the tiny green eyed monster that had stirred in his stomach the other day when he saw them at the coffee shop. He hadn't meant to rattle her, but before it was revealed that there was no romantic relationship between them, Troy felt a disappointment he hadn't remembered in a long time. He selfishly did not want her taken, a need he hadn't felt for so long.

The sudden eruption of sound cut through his thoughts and Troy lifted his head to be greeted with the sight of angry attorneys stomping in their business suits down the leading steps. The males were swarmed by reporters and lights flashed around them like Paris Hilton striking a pose. However, they all shoved their dirty hands away from the cameras and grumbled angry, "no comments" as they stalked out of the facility.

However, the second round of people who stepping into the sunlight was a group of four females exit, with the lead's twinkle triumphantly sparkling in her black eyes. Troy immediately stood as he caught sight of the chestnut shimmering ponytail that belonged to his best friend, attempting to mask her smile of victory as the woman casually chatted of their defeat with the journalists. He couldn't help but feel an immediate rush of pride that she successfully won her case without a bullet drilling through her head.

It was the olive tone of the skin beside Alicia that touched her arm to subtly notion his presence. Her emerald eyes briefly flashed in his direction, her smile sliding ever so slightly from her cheeks as she attempted to speak into a microphone. Alicia once again placed her poker face on and turned away from him as he casually shoved his hands into his pockets, slight irritation eating at his stomach.

When it appeared the spotlight officially shined onto the head lawyer and the students were cast to the sides like rookie singers, Alicia finally looked over at him with her mouth tugging down. The porcelain skin of the Asian woman walking beside her blushed when she caught his eye and smiled politely. Troy immediately recognized her as one of Alicia's roommates and waved.

"Hi Troy." The twenty-three year old, Mel, greeted as they approached him.

"Hey Mel, how'd it go?"

Alicia's eyes were not quite slits, but he immediately picked up on the negative vibes that were drilling into his exposed forehead like lasers, "What are you doing here?"

Troy tried not to groan at her bitterness, obviously the way he turned her down the other night was still raw. The acorn shape of Mel's eyes shifted between the two as she awkwardly pointed over her shoulder to the speeding street below the stone steps, "I'm um, I'm just gonna let you two talk over there."

Neither friend made a motion of goodbye as Mel timidly stepped around the two, who only were staring upon each other. After the sounds of her heels faded on the stone, he narrowed his brow to intensify the seriousness of the oncoming conversation, "What's going on?"

Alicia was all but subtle when she shrugged her shoulder covered with a light jacket, for the fall days were becoming slightly brisker, "Why do you just assume something's wrong?" she asked with a bitterness underlying in her tone. "I'm fine Troy."

"Then why haven't you called me back?" He coached himself to keep the volume of his voice at a respectable level.

The grey toe of her heel circled around as she stared at the ground, "I've been busy with stuff."

He groaned in frustration. It was painfully obvious that she was not busy nor did she more "stuff" to do than normal. In other words, she was avoiding him since the incident that had unfolded. Removing his hands from the depths of his pockets, Troy carefully trailed his fingers down the side of her arm. She neither flinched nor welcomed the gesture, a sign he wasn't quite sure was positive or not. The sturdiness of her cheeks pointed off to the side, not quite looking at anything.

"Alicia look at me," the tone in his voice was hard, defiant. Alicia had no other option but to meet his gaze with her mouth opened in awe at the overpowering sensation his cobalt eyes drilled into her. He felt her tremble at the sensation beneath his palm as he delicately cupped her elbow. "You promised to tell me if this was too much."

Both stopped breathing.

His mind rewound four years previously, approximately a month after his fiancée's death to be exact. Still within the steaming boarders of California, they had been seated in the back of his all too famous white, well rusty would be a better word, pick up truck that he and his father rescued from the clutches of a junk yard the summer of his senior year as a Wildcat. Their kisses had been fierce, lustful, zealous as they rolled around the bed of the vehicle beneath the shimmering stars in an empty cul-de-sac. But there had been a red light in Troy's eyes, a halt that he could not allow her to become emotionally attached to someone who would not return her devotion.

At the time, he had been caught in a limbo of whether his feelings for her were legitimate, or if they were fueled by betrayal and loss. And just as she had reached to remove his sweats, his hand caught hers, blue met green in a gravitating stare much like they were in at the present day. Although his dick had cussed him through the process, Troy tenderly stated that they needed to stop if the emotions in the friendship ever heightened into something beyond what it was. He never wanted anything hidden between them; they were far too close for the wedge of unrequited love to tear them apart. Alicia swore beneath the lights, with her hand on his heart, that the attraction was nothing but physical. She promised that if it ever became anything more, she would sever the ties immediately.

Oh the irony.

"It's not too much," she shot back, fingers balling into thin, yet deadly fists. "I'm twenty-four years old, I don't need you fucking telling me whether or not I can handle something."

"You freaked out Alicia," he once again struggled with the even tone of his voice, "it's not like you."

"So? I was horny, you told me no," she bitterly snapped, "sorry if I didn't want to stick around to watch South Park with you. I've got better things to do with my time."

"Stop!" he ordered, irritation finally leaking into his veins like poison. Catching her wrist to not allow her to stalk away, he shook his head aggressively, finally matting her irritation. "Okay? I'm not gonna argue with you over something this stupid."

Alicia breathed evenly, calming herself down but she was so fired up by now that it was difficult to return back to earth, "I'm fine Troy. I appreciate your concern but I'm not glass."

"I never said you were," the exasperation in Troy's voice sound strained. Alicia was his best friend, and no matter her stubbornness, the worst position he could wiggle into was leaving the steps raging and not on speaking terms. The tight pull of his eyes softened, and he pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead in frustration. "Please, Alicia, I don't want to fight."

Alicia didn't make a motion to step down, however her muscular shoulders dropped ever so slightly at the caress of his pleads, "There's nothing to fight about." She replied, throwing her head back to see that her colleagues were shifting around and glancing in their direction. Clearly they were beginning to be impatient with their waiting.

He hesitated before he curled around her elbow once again. Slowly, he engulfed her in an embrace that made her jump with surprise, however she didn't push away as he anticipated. She did not wrap her arms around him either though.

"I love you Alicia," Troy truthfully confessed. No matter what was said or what they did, he would always love her on some level. She stiffened as his proclamation, which only induced his squeeze tighter. "You're my best friend and I don't want to see you get hurt. Sure as hell not by me."

Pulling away from him, Alicia seemed to have completely dropped her guard as she sent a weak smile up into his face. Whether or not the co-workers had a free show of this touch was unimportant, at least she didn't scold him for being unprofessional, "I promised you that night Troy that I would tell you. So please stop questioning my judgment."

"I just care about you," he guiltily released her. Alicia shivered into her jacket again by the lack of his touch. "I don't want you to feel like I'm abandoning you if we don't, you know." He subtly hinted at his future agenda, but wasn't quite sure if she had indeed picked up on the request.

"I know. I know you'll be there no matter what," throwing a look back to see that the eldest of the women was tapping her wrist in warning, Alicia cast her green eyes back at him. "I hate to do this, but…"

Troy let out an airy sigh, "I know, the law calls."

She nodded and took another heavy breath and started her journey to the street, "I'll call you, alright?" She promised before retreating backwards, though never once leaving her stare from him.

"Promise?" He called after her as she hurried backwards, stumbling in her heels though refusing to turn around.

"Promise!" Alicia yelled back before finally ripping away from his gaze and jumping back towards her lawyers. Quickly, she hopped into the awaiting cab and shot him one final look before climbing into the car. Troy blew upwards before closing his eyes, completely fooled by the lies that had been spilled just a few minutes before.

* * *

"Hey Gabriella?!" Taylor yelled with her body wiggling inside the oven and her dark hand searching blindly for something atop the counter.

"Hmm?" Gabriella called from her spot curled on the couch, never once shifting her eyes from the fixation she had on the baseball game flashing across the McKessie-Danforth television. Her slender body was rigid, tense with stress in her shoulders and lower back. Carefully avoiding the arm draped across the back of the furniture but not quite touching her, she twisted around to see Taylor fumbling inside the appliance and couldn't help but snicker.

Eyes watering from the heat, Taylor cranked her head towards her friend, "Can you get me the hot pad?"

Sighing, Gabriella rose from her spot and didn't dare glance back at the cyan eyes which she could feel penetrating into her ribcage. She trudged in the direction of the kitchen, not noticing the foot that jutted out in a tease before she tumbled over his leg. Catching herself on the edge of the large chair, Gabriella whirled around with rage as the perpetrator snickered his chocolate face. "What the fuck Danforth?" Gabriella snapped with more irritation than she intended.

Chad raised a slightly bemused eyebrow at her uptightness and chuckled, the dim, nightly glow dancing over his face with his mockery, "Jesus Montez, who pissed on your house?"

Gabriella tried her utmost hardest to train her eyes not to shift in the direction of the figure furrowed on the couch, "Long day, cut me some slack." She grumbled before spinning towards the kitchen once again.

She lied, of course. Her day had been anything but long until she crossed the hall to spend the evening at Taylor and Chad's apartment to watch the ongoing Yankee's game. Originally eager to discover the basketball coach was invited as well, the excitement quickly died a few moments after stepping into the apartment. Taylor had greeted her cheerfully and took her cheaply bought French silk pie from her grasp while Chad and Troy's heads were bowed together in the living area of the apartment. Their voices, however, carried more than anticipated, for Gabriella picked up key words that involved "sex", "visit this afternoon", and the biggie- "Alicia".

Gabriella hardly found it fair that Troy treated her with a cold shoulder when she walked in with Jason the other day, yet he was probably still receiving blow jobs from his best friend. Whether she was acting like an immature school girl or whether she had a justifying reason was not the point. Gabriella was angered, frustrated by both jealousy and confusion. She wanted the intimate caresses to stop, but more importantly she wanted to know WHY he was screwing her if he had no romantic feelings for her. Or so he claimed.

"Here." Gabriella tossed the blue and gold weaved pads in Taylor direction before leaning tiredly against the counter.

"You alright?" her friend asked softly as she removed the tinfoil off the makeshift cover of the glass pan holding sizzling enchiladas –or… at least they were supposed to be enchiladas. "You've seemed quiet since you came."

"I'm tired," she fibbed once again and took a giant breath of air, "sorry I'm being boring."

"You're not," Taylor's voice was hushed as she shifted her gaze to stare into Gabriella's dark eyes, "I just want to be sure everything's okay."

Gabriella was not blind to the way her eyes flickered towards the person on the couch as she spoke. Although she was tempted to glance over as well, she fought with her reflexes, "Really Tay, I'm perfect." She responded and almost squished her elbow into the pan of Mexican.

Taylor rolled her eyes, "Whatever you say Gabs."

"I smell food!"

The sound of Chad's voice ripped both girls away from their intense stare. His hands rubbed together hungrily as he peered into the steaming glass that appeared to me a mess of scarlet and tangerine goop, "What do wet got, babe?" Chad asked while smacking a sloppy kiss to her cheek. Though still in the mindset with Gabriella, she tossed her stained apron to the side as Troy approached the food as well.

"Smells good." He mumbled in that all too hypnotic voice that Gabriella was desperately trying not to listen to. She was also making as much effort as she could not to look at the way his maroon t-shirt amplified his already built biceps.

Chad scrunched his eyebrows in a rude disgust. "It looks like, red mud."

Taylor scowled angrily, "Well if you don't want it, then don't eat it!" She spat before shoving dishes in the direction of the other occupants.

"Dude, can you guys not fight for like, five minutes? My head fucking hurts." Troy moaned and rubbed the lids of his eyes. Drawing blood, Gabriella bit her tongue to hold in the bitter comment about a post-orgasm headache he was most likely experiencing. However, she remained mute as both boys took a plate from the stack and joined just as Chad stabbed mercilessly at the slimy shell, Troy at his heels.

"I know I'm not Zeke, but I tried." Taylor did not blush, but she almost coyly glared at the entrée.

Chad chuckled and kissed his girlfriend's nose after reaching over for the frosty beer waiting for him on the counter, "It's the thought that counts. As long as I'm not poisoned."

Even in her sour mood, Gabriella couldn't help but snicker at their spat. Taylor and Chad pranced away almost giddy as Gabriella stepped to the stove to watch the simmering surface of the pan. She gathered a chunk of the meal and slopped it onto her plate, careful not to splatter sauce all over the violet cotton of her knit. Assuming that the other were once again snuggled into the cozy seats in front of the television, Gabriella mulled around the food, wasting time so she did not have to fight with her inner desires to break her silent treatment and speak with Troy.

That was, until a hand caught the curve of her elbow and caused her to almost leap out of her jeans, "Jesus!"

The bright sparkle of Troy's eyes engorged as her own trailed over every corner of his bronze face, "Shit, I didn't mean to scare you!"

"No, I just wasn't expecting that." Her hand placed over her heart to steady the erratic beating. Momentarily, Gabriella forgot her jealousy and bitterness towards him and absorbed the sensation of his warm palm curled around the curve of her elbow. However, the bliss vanished once she remembered his hushed whispers earlier.

Troy nodded, a sense of hesitation washed over him, "Um, can I talk to you for a second?"

Gabriella shrugged off his grasp rudely and crossed her arms over the small swell of her breast, "I guess."

After setting her plate beside his, Gabriella stiffly followed him through the entrance of the apartment. Chad and Taylor shot them a curious look as they exited the home, but Troy called after that they would return in a few minutes. Immaturely pouting, she backed into the neutral hue of the hall, facing the dim label of the "8G" that marked her door. Troy maneuvered himself directly in front of her, searching over the crevices of her face to be certain the truth would be told.

"Alright Montez, what's going on?" He asked with defiance in his voice that was not to be reckoned with.

Feeling a rush of cockiness, Gabriella tilted her head in mockery and parroted the words he spoke the other day inside the coffee shop, "Why would you think there's something wrong?"

"Gabriella." Troy warned, obviously making the connection to the reference.

She wasn't quite sure why she was so irritated. It was not Gabriella's business who he thrust himself into every night. But she couldn't deny that every day she spent with him, she was drawn more to him. Whether it was hunting for his past, or just discovering who he was in the present, she was becoming much more attracted to him than she ever imagined after their first meeting. The bratty teenager within was slowly tainting her normally composed nature as she felt the whites of her eyes bleed with jade envy.

Her eyes blackened with fury, "You want me to stop Troy? Stop what?"

The irises in Troy's eyes darkened to a dull navy, but he shook his head before anger could consume him, "Gabriella, don't okay?"

"Why not?" Gabriella fumed, her brown eyes sharp with annoyance. "You fucking act like an ass when I brought Jason in, yet you're railing your best…"

Simultaneously, their eyes swelled with a rush of both panic and embarrassment. Gabriella almost cupped her mouth in pure regret as her sentence trailed off. It had never been revealed that she was indeed aware of the cohesion that transpired between the two. Her stomach felt empty and her blood ran cold as Troy's eyes darted across her face with pure concern. It was as though her lashes, cheekbones, and nostrils would reveal what she had uncovered.

Chest heaving, Gabriella couldn't help but allow her face to release its tense. Not exactly aware of the reasoning, her pulse hammered wildly against her wrist. She was at a complete loss for words, as though the previous statement stripped her of her vocal cords. The only sound she could manage to release was, "Troy…"

Troy swallowed what appeared to be a lump in his Adam's apple, "I'm not sure what Sharpay has told you," Troy began, lifting up the penetration of his eyes as he spoke. Gabriella was almost slammed to the back wall, just as he carefully placed his palm above her shoulder to cage her in –reminding Gabriella much of when a high school fling imitated the identical action. His breath was toasty against her cheeks as he spoke in the husky, yet hypnotic tone of his voice, "but I don't think it will be an issue much longer."

They had never been this close before apart from a friendly hug. For the first time since their meeting, Gabriella's body was calling for him in away she never knew how. Before this moment, -apart from knowing he was smoking hot and the innocent crush she had had on him- her draw to him had brewed from her curiosity and desire to truly know him. But this? The burn of her skin and the stagger of her heart were bubbling from a thirst of lust. A need surged to touch him, hold him, taste him, feel him.

She suddenly absorbed, _him_. Physically and personality wise. The way his powerful muscles rolled and the twinkle of his baby blues. The air of mystery, the longing to unearth his past made him a perfect, unique match to her reporting nature. Everything about him suddenly appeared holy, flawless in her eyes. No longer was her need to discover him derived _just _from her curiosity, no longer was she just merely flirting with the appeal he carried. The tables had suddenly flipped. She wanted to discover him because. She wanted to discover him because he was Troy Bolton.

Gabriella had to steady her rapid breathing; otherwise the peak of her breasts would rub against his covered pectorals her chest was raising so desperately, "Why?" She dared to ask, pupils dilating with attraction.

Troy's lips curled to a mysterious, closed mouth smile as his hand slid down the trail of her arm, sending mountains of goosebumps everywhere across the valley of her body, "I don't like lies Gab," he confessed, voice dropped to a sensual level of softness, "and if something came up, I don't want to be in a bad situation and hurt someone."

Helpless and under his trance, all Gabriella could do was nod as he pulled away, the air becoming much colder in his emptiness. Her eyes fluttered closed, missing the intoxicating scent that had just lingered within her nose.

"I think they're starting to miss us," Troy mused, though there was nothing more that Gabriella wanted than to stay in solitude with him. Allowing her lids to lift once again, he flashed her a warm smile, unaware of the effect he just had upon her. "We good?" He asked to be sure that they were indeed, no longer on sour terms.

Gabriella swallowed, "Yeah, we're good." She whispered with her heart drowning in this newfound feeling before following back inside.


	11. Minute Eleven

**A/N: I really want to wish everyone a _very _Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. You guys are incredible. Thank you for being awesome readers! If I could, I'd give all of you Troy Bolton under your trees. Unfortunately, I don't have that power.  
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**I hope you like this chapter! Thanks for reading!  


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The pre-season workouts for the Warriors were both a blessing and an annoyance in Troy's eyes. Gathering the team together before the first practice instigated bonding between the basketball brothers. Troy knew from his own experience as an East High Wildcat, a team is only as good as the tight knit family it reflected. As captain of the squad his junior and senior year, Troy had quickly become the heart and soul of the team. Although his enchanting physique most likely added to the popularity, the title of king had unofficially been dubbed upon his shoulders. The star knew this as well and regrettably used this to his advantage. He was not an ass per say, but he couldn't deny that as his skills progressed and began to capture the watchful eyes of others far more important than him, his ego began to build.

However, now tamed by tragedy and forever bound to the sidelines, Troy occasionally allowed the commute to the school every week to etch under his skin every so often. Also, it wasn't uncommon that some of the player thought it be healthier sucking faces with their girlfriends or hook ups of the week instead of practicing. It was in moments like these that Troy had to count to ten and remember that he was once one of those overly horny boys. Sacrifices need to be made, and Troy had found himself in the solitude of the gym that Wednesday evening with his true best friend: the orange sphere.

Collecting in the divot of his back, Troy felt the overworked sweat trickle down the bronze surface of his skin. The gymnasium was silenced apart from the squeaking of his sneakers, the rattle of the rim and the bouncing of the ball against the hardwood. Troy's eyes were unfocused as he battled against imaginary opponents while driving towards the net for the perfect art of a jump shot.

He had arrived at the high school forty-five minutes earlier than he informed the Warriors the practice would be held at. In that time, Troy had quickly mapped out the direction of the training on a scribbled clipboard within the first five minutes. Twiddling his thumbs in boredom of his productiveness, his mind began to close itself of the day–mostly focusing on the sexiness of Gabriella and whether Alicia was going to make noodles or soup that night- and once again returned to the game that consumed his life so long ago. Like a recovering addict receiving a whiff of heroine, Troy couldn't help himself to snatch a ballooned ball from the metal rack and innocently shot free-throws. Temptation, however, had overtook him and soon Troy found himself firing attempts like missiles, dribbling skills as elite as Kobe.

The scene was hazy –Troy was having a difficult time deciphering what really was reality and what was his imagination. Somewhere in some distant swoosh of his successful baskets, the roar of a ghost crowd thundered through the walls. Like a teenager on drugs, the shades of black from the Warrior colors of crimson and ebony dimmed until they reached a snowy flake, the red dangling from banners on the ceiling shined by the glow of a forgotten clock. The black cut off with matching white shorts bled until they brushed his legs as a scarlet uniform. His daydream pulled at the strands of his chestnut hair, swooping his bangs over his face in the damp shag he once held as a seventeen year-old. Muscles' shrinking into his senior year build, Troy was suddenly captivated by the illusion of the West High rivals circling around the gym. As he took shot after shot into the hoop, the chant of his name in the comeback of the state championship intoxicated his brain. He was once again, a victor, a celebrity, a hero…

And then it all ended with the sound of, "Troy?"

The twenty-four year old snapped his head around and froze with his eyes widened like a deer in headlights. Star struck beneath the hoop, a dark figure in black snap pants allowed his jaw to hang slightly in awe. The only sound ringing was the echo of Troy's desperate wheezes to grasp any cubic centimeter of oxygen in the thick air. Dazed, Troy ran his fingers through his dripping bangs, reminded once again that his hair was cropped and no longer tickling his forehead. Waking up from his fantasy, he remembered once again that he was no longer at the University of Albuquerque gym for the state game. He was once again a lowly coach in the constriction of a Brooklyn high school.

"Leo," Troy awkwardly drew out and glanced at the ticking clock on the wall within its protective cage, noting his appearance was twenty minutes earlier than the directed seven o'clock practice, "you're early."

Shaking his head to once again be reminded that he was staring at Troy Bolton and not Dwayne Wade, Leo shrugged and scratched the back of his black head coyly, "Uh yeah, I was with Anna and she had to be back early. Homework or shit."

Troy chuckled, wedging the ball between his side and his arm as perspiration continued to drip over his lip. He attempted to remove the uneasiness transpiring between them, "Ah, new girl?"

Leo's black eyes became black with defense, "Don't start shit, I get enough of it with the guys."

Laughing again to thin the dense air, he crossed the distance between them, leaving his precious glory back at center court, "Hey, hey, I'm not mocking," Troy nodded with a warm smirk, "why are they giving you crap?"

Leo shrugged and lazily dropped the black duffle slung around his shoulder, "She's not like the other girls I've dated."

"What do you mean?" Troy asked with furrow eyebrows as the seventeen year old dropped to a seat and began to unlace his street shoes. His dark skin appeared milk chocolate under the golden lighting, reminding him of the way Gabriella's skin glowed when she was engaged or heated.

"She's not like, a dancer or cheerleader or whatever. She sings, and she's smart too." A blush of embarrassment mutinied against the tough demeanor he was attempting use as a shield. His hands quickly shoved his sneakers into the unzipped bag, as though hiding his insecurities.

Troy snorted and spun the ball on the pad of his pointer finger while looking down upon him, "Is she cute?"

A cheeky smile plastered onto his lips as he wiggled out of his sweats, "Hell yeah."

"Brains and beauty, sounds like a keeper." He teased just before Leo rolled easily onto his toes, balancing on the balls of his high tops and rose to a stance. Passing the ball to the younger player, the "tap" that vibrated off his fingers once catching the sphere sounded in the silence of the gym. Without uttering a word of request, Leo bent his powerful legs and imitated Troy's rapid fire previously –only he was much sloppier than the all star.

Silence clung to their bodies like leeches as it awkwardly hung in the air. Troy noted Leo's hesitation, his mind elsewhere as they took turns scoring uncounted points. Although comfortable with just being in the presence of his past obsession with the sport, Troy waiting impatiently listening to his feet squawking to collect missed rebounds. Every so often, Leo's amber eyes flicked to him, then ripped away as though he was caught doing something forbidden.

Finally, Leo clapped against the basketball; his beady eyes lifting to lock upon Troy. The intensity of his stare was overwhelming, hungry in the inquisitions that swam in his irises, "Hey Troy?"

"Yeah?"

Swallowing thickly, the Hispanic's palms rolled over the rigid surface beneath his fingers, "Dude, what I saw earlier… you're the shit man," the course accent he had learned to suppress in his early life bled through his nervous tone, "why aren't you, you know… playing still?"

His mind was blank when his jaw unhinged in a brief moment of disorientation. That was the question, the demand that haunted his every morning and evening –circling his mind from when he chopped on his cheerios to when he stripped to his sweats and curled beneath his sheets. The answer was quite simple, the reason lay with the two words uttered that fateful, April night. Even now, the burn of her tears sizzling holes into his chest pulsated.

"Because," Troy swallowed, his arms weighed down with guilt and lost dreams, "I had to choose, and I chose what I thought was right."

Leo nodded, most likely absorbing information he had craved for so long, "Was… was it right?"

Eyes locked upon each other, Troy felt a rush of heat rage and squeeze around him. The atmosphere suddenly balmed, like some hidden terrorist exploded pounds of chemical weapons inside the gym. He prickled with remembrance as he opened his mouth, "I…"

"Dude, it's dark in here!"

Troy's voice was sliced off by the sound of escalating chatter. Simultaneously, both men on the court jerked their heads around to meet the squeaking that interrupted their bondage. Leo dropped his head to the floor, an almost disappointment washing over his features. The coach couldn't deny that he himself felt a tinge of bitterness that he couldn't spend more time with the point guard. He did his best not to pick favorites, but he couldn't control his natural instinct to connect to one so like himself.

"Awe shit man, are we late?" The bellowing voice of The Hammer asked as he took in the full view of the two on the court. He towered shadows under the bluish glow of the dimmed lights, only half illuminated to save electricity in the evenings.

Shaking off the initial feeling of hesitation from Leo's question, Troy finally snapped from his paralysis, "Yeah, drop and give me twenty." Troy teased before strutting over to where the boys threw their bags like rag dolls.

"No way!" A junior rejected, though he received daggers from the instructor.

Not risking the respect he had captured from his team, Troy cocked a brunette brow, "Wanna bet?"

Troy threw his head back and sent Leo a cheeky smile, the younger of the two grinning for he knew that Troy's limitations were not as restrained as some of the teammates believed, "Push ups suck."

Snatching the whistle from his pocket, he spun to center court once again; the illusions of his past drifting around him like smoke. However, this time, Troy remained in the present as he pressed the icy metal to his lips and blew. A defiant shrill screeched through the night, "You're right Carter," Troy shot a wink towards his favorite player and watched him snicker once more before glancing at the hoop with a sense of worshipping –a longing for what he missed so dearly, "I'm more of a suicides guy anyways."

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The air was easy, a calming yet swaying mood that curled around each of the occupants in the coffee shop. Lights dimmed and intimate, the shade that dragged long lines over each face was almost seductive; the mellow swing heightened the relaxed state. Tiny candles flickered at the center of each little, yet occupied, tables. A black piano had been pulled, shining black and glinting in the warm lighting. Beside it was a microphone on a single stand, waiting for the voice of an angel to breathe life into.

Gabriella stepped into the coffee shop that Thursday evening with a lazy smile plastered on her face. The room was mildly crowded, with couples cozied together on a chair or singles with their thick rimmed glasses and longs noses buried inside a book. Glancing back to her accompaniment, she watched as Zeke, Taylor, and Jason all followed tightly behind her.

"I've never been here at night," Zeke comment and unzipped the fleece he was wearing for the nights were cooling now that fall was quickly approaching, "It's homey."

"Where you do wanna sit?" Taylor asked, her eyes big and creamy with make up.

Surveying the scene for possible seats, Gabriella found a vacant table closest to the wall, "There." She pointed and led the group as they began to make their way over to the designated space.

"What time does she perform?" Jason asked while they were settled and glanced at his watch impatiently. He fidgeted with the red material of his collar while his eyes darted around the room in search of something, or someone."

Gabriella shrugged; her white top covering the magenta cami beneath allowed her skin to glow with a golden haze, "When we talked to her, she said around like eight thirty. I guess the girl who sings for her has class at six." She repeated the story Kelsi informed her in the last visit to the coffee house. Apparently, the woman who sang with her was a year older than Kelsi herself, but the two had been good friends since they sat through music theory at NYU. Kelsi spoke highly of how dynamic she was.

"I'm in no hurry," Taylor eased back into her chair and rested her palms upon the table, "I just wish Chad wasn't being such a douche and came."

"I'm sure he has is reasons." Zeke sent her a warm smile from across the platform.

Taylor rolled her eyes, "No, he said he's too busy watching the game. Where's Shar?"

Zeke shrugged, however, there was no inch of bitterness upon him as Taylor had had, "She's had a rough week. I think she just wanted Shar time tonight."

Jason snorted and leaned towards Gabriella, placing his palm up to shield from the drama queen's significant other across the way, "Does that mean she stares at herself in the mirror for five hours straight?"

Ever since Gabriella introduced Jason to the group the previous week, he seemed to blend easily with the group. They laughed at his sarcastic jokes and were intrigued by his mockery towards Gabriella. She was thrilled, for Jason had quickly become like a brother and she needed an ally who had absolutely no previous connection to any of the group. Even Troy, who had an I-want-to-chop-off-his-dick attitude at first, seemed to have connected to his previous basketball experiences.

"Hey, she's not that vain." Zeke defended weakly, which only caused the three to wave their hands in dismissal of his rose colored glasses.

"Course not," Jason snickered before twisting his body around towards the direction of the register. "Anyone want coffee?"

Gabriella leaned over as smacked the back of his head. This disarranged mess of his hair flung forward in response to her push, "Caffeine at eight? Do you really want to be up until four in the morning?"

"Thanks peanut gallery. Anyone _else _want anything?" He slowly rose from the comforts he was in and nodded towards the front counter that a cluster of the crowd retrieving drinks before the show. After requesting a glass of water with the stick of her tongue in pure mockery, Gabriella watched as Jason blended himself into the sea of occupants.

Zeke tapped the pads of his fingers twice on the dark wooded surface, asking to no one specifically, "Where's Troy tonight?"

Nonchalantly, Gabriella trialed her hand over the bumpy fabric of her shirt and tried to ignore the reflexive jumpstart of her heart upon hearing his name. Taylor, who shot a glance at Gabriella to see if she was going to answer, shrugged, "I have no idea. He had class today and I called him, but he never called back."

"Maybe he's with Alicia?" Zeke suggested, clearly oblivious to the way Gabriella stiffened in her nerves.

Taylor shrugged, "Maybe."

A phlegm of distaste condensed in the deep excavation of her throat at the thought of Troy turning his back on his word that the hook ups would cease. Whatever he decided was ultimately his decision, but Gabriella couldn't help to channel all of her excess energy in the direction of the separation between the best friends. It seemed that it had been an eternity since she last saw him that night for the unofficial Yankee's party. She longed to see him, almost so far to say that she slightly _missed _his presence.

"I wish we would have known she wasn't coming before, then maybe Shar would have come."

There was the heroin once again.

Eyes suddenly bright with lust, Gabriella's elongated curls whipped around and slapped Taylor's russet cheek. The magnet in her heart lurched towards the baker, his face drawn back in surprise at her sudden snap. So entranced with the curves of Zeke's soft face, the way her fingers twitched as though typing upon a keyboard never occurred to her. Her stomach turned, opportunity presenting itself like parting parents for the evening and horny –very alone- teenagers. Despite the emotional attachment that hooked to him now, Gabriella's drive to uncover his past never ceased. In contrast, it only heightened with her desperate need to find the man she was so infatuated with.

"They really don't like each other," carefully choosing her words, she lifted her starving orbs to meet his. Her statement was casual, however the darkening of her stare with persuasion mutinied against her mask, "what happened?"

Taylor, who had been silently sending her skeptical daggers, shook her head with disapproval, "Gabriella." She warned, which Gabriella hushed with her left hand beneath the table.

"Between Sharpay and Alicia?" Zeke asked, obviously ignoring Taylor's hesitation for the gossip that was unfolding. Weakly, a chuckle parted his lips, "what do you think? Troy."

Gabriella's eyebrows furrowed with interest. So detached from reality, she was deaf to Taylor's huff or the scraping of Jason's chair against the floor as he descended once again. So numb, she didn't even notice the brisk condensation against her arm as Jason slid her water to her, "What do you mean?"

Shrugging, Zeke seem unharmed by the inquisitions that had not captured Jason's erratic attention span as well, "Sharpay wanted Troy and Alicia was in the way."

Her breath came in short gasps as a sudden slice of betrayal ripped through Gabriella's heart. Sharpay had feelings for Troy? And she had been watching their connection for this long mutely? Without control, Gabriella averted her gaze to the dribbling moisture that trickled down the glass like tears, "She… she did?"

"Did anyone ever tell you how we all found out they were… you know?" Zeke questioned, Gabriella slightly irritated for him not being more envious of his girlfriend's crush on one of his friends.

Gabriella wordlessly shook her head, toes turned back with lack of circulation beneath her fashion boots.

A purely happy smile composed over his features, a complete opposite to what Gabriella would have expected given the situation, "I first met Sharpay when I was a junior. I was working in a diner at that time as a cook just up town," Zeke explained. Voice an octave higher than what Gabriella was used to in men, however it was anything but feminine, "she used to come in all the time after auditions. I don't understand what they didn't see in her. She's perfect."

Jason cackled a cough and motioned his finger down his throat in amusement to draw a reaction out of the reporter. Gabriella ignored him and continued to be captivated by his story, waiting for her hero to enter, "Go on."

His black eyes widened with excitement, the toffee rim around the edges held her attention, "Eventually she began to invite me to parties with her friends. I think it was because she wanted to make Troy jealous."

"Weren't you upset about it?" Gabriella butted in, no remorse for her bluntness.

Zeke shrugged again, "I liked being around her too much."

"Oh." Gabriella gulped a long drink of her water, the mental notepad in her head scribbling the story into her brain.

"One night," hands dancing before him to paint a mental picture, Gabriella noted the way his animation escaladed at the point of the story, "there was a party in some dorm or something. Sharpay wanted to go, but she didn't want to leave Troy behind. So she dragged me to his dorm to fetch him. She didn't even knock, but when she opened the door…"

Throat burning like the desert, Gabriella struggled to swallow, "And Troy was busy."

He nodded, "It worked out though. Pay was so pissed that she didn't talk to anyone in the gang for like a week. In that time, she religiously ran lines so that her next audition, she nailed it and landed the role. It made her forget about Troy completely."

Silence overtook the group, though it was anything but awkward. Gabriella absorbed the information, realizing that Sharpay truly did toss her feelings for Troy like one of her forgotten cigarette buds. Relief waved over her –along with satisfaction that she finally cracked another code.

Suddenly, the sound of a polite applause interrupted the stillness. The table reeled their heads to the side, watching the shadows of moment behind a cherry-wooded door. Far in the distance, a tiny woman with pixie hair glided into the swaying atmosphere of the room. Her skin was creamy, eyes amber and her body loose with delicacy. Kelsi followed closely, weakly grinning, and dressed in a contemporary sweater, ballet flats and black jeans. Her caramel hair was curled, eyes bright behind the shine of her glasses.

"There she is." Jason breathed, immediately demolishing the tense surroundings.

The girl –who seemed so breakable and poised, she could be a doll- grinned as she stepped to the microphone, "How's everyone?" The crowd responded with an enthusiastic, but not obnoxious, cheer. Her voice was soft, yet hypnotic and enchanting. Once again remembering she had hands, Gabriella joined in the claps, "Those of you who don't know, I'm Angie Reed. And this is my lovely accompanist, Kelsi Neilson."

Unable to contain herself when Kelsi blushed ruby, Gabriella let out a small shout as Jason and Zeke wolf whistled, "She looks nervous." Taylor commented candidly.

"She'll be great." Jason confidently nodded.

He was everything but wrong. Seating herself as though she belonged before the instrument, her fingers floated over the keys like ripples on water as the songs began. First, her movements and music was hesitant, fearful by the nerves that were apparent over her trembling frame. However, once Angie joined her composition with the voice of angels –her confidence grew and her talent unveiled. The group was silent as the show progressed; occasionally, one would take an easy sip of their drink or sigh of the beauty the two painted with high Cs.

The mellow music allowed Gabriella to fade to and from reality, replaying the story just collected through her mind over again over. Even after the gentle chatter commenced after the opening number, the ting of the piano overwhelmed her into silence. Song after song, she imagined the heartbreak of Sharpay when creaking the door opened to see Troy's nude limbs tangled with Alicia's. The feel of Zeke's encouragement, the sense of accomplishment Gabriella hoped to feel in her profession just as she had overtook her. So very lost, Gabriella almost ignored the gentle nudge of her elbow from her best friend beside her.

"Gabs," Taylor's breezy call floated away like a feather in the wind. She unintentionally ignored her, until her arm was pushed more forcefully, "Gabriella!"

"Huh?"

Taylor's bob rippled when she nodded towards the entrance. Gabriella cranked her slender body cranked around and was suddenly slammed with the sight of perfection strolling into the coffee shop, completely deafening her to the sound of Jason's snicker, "Oh here we go."

He was flawless; there was no other way to describe the figure that just stepped into the shadows at the door. Breath caught in throat, Gabriella's heart fluttered as his head swiveled to survey the shop. His shoulders muscles appeared broad beneath the black sweater that was thin enough to take a view of the white undershirt beneath. The sapphire eyes pierced as they landed upon the table; his smile curled an inch higher when he spotted Gabriella.

"Wipe the drool." Jason murmured as Troy started toward them and if Gabriella wasn't so entranced, she would have slapped him.

"Sorry I'm late," Troy apologized as he reached the group, "I lost my phone in my apartment."

"Smooth Bolton." The photographer reached over with a bright grin to perform the intricate movement of a greeting men call a hand shake. Troy beamed brightly upon him and imitated the same action with Zeke. Gabriella was proud that her coworker had fit in so well.

His fingers trailed down Taylor's shoulder as he passed her. She responded with a greeting and a warm smile before once again returning her attention to the colorful ease of Kelsi's notes and Angie's voice. Gabriella, however, felt his gaze upon her and lifted her head to meet his soft stare.

"I didn't think you'd come." Gabriella confessed as Troy fetched a chair from a table of three –all who took a double take at his dazzling smile in recognition. He avoided them and scooted himself between Taylor and Gabriella.

"You think I'd miss us seeing Kels? I'm just pissed you didn't kidnap me." He nudged her shoulder playfully after lowering himself, tingles lingering on her skin at the contact.

Gabriella giggled, "I'm not good working with handcuffs."

"Handcuffs?" Troy asked with amusement tugging at his lips, "sounds kinky."

Once again reminded of the tale just told, Gabriella couldn't help but feel another piece to the jagged puzzle had been fit into the bizarre life of Troy Bolton. The piece that defined the revelation of their affair to the rest of their friends. Although she did not uncover any of the important past or death segments, she was just ecstatic to learn something else about him once again.

However, the thoughts of his dark shadows were pushed aside as she allowed the moment with him encompass her.

The puffy pillow of her bottom lip caught between her teeth, "I'm really happy you came."

"Yeah? Me too."

With a final smirk, Troy's arm protectively draped around her shoulders as they turned back to the music. Her face felt hot as his nails delicately caressed the fabric of her shirt in tempo to the beat surrounding them.

And it was not removed for the rest of the night.


	12. Minute Twelve

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope everyone has a wonderful new year, I'm so thankful for you guys supporting me this year. You're awesome, so have a great time. Thank you for the amazing reviews and I hope you like this chapter.**

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When Gabriella stepped into work that morning, she had no idea the entire day would ultimately change her life.

"That's cheating!"

"Shut up, you're just pissed that I'm winning."

Pouting back in her chair, Gabriella crossed her arms and glared at her coworker from seated beside her, "I'm not pissed your winning," Gabriella explained bitterly, watching as Jason flicked the excess hair away from his dark eyes with a bemused smirk of triumph and victory, "I'm pissed because you're cheating."

"Gabriella," Jason leaned forward, tie dangling off his neck lazily, and patted the blouse that covered her shoulder, "you can't cheat in Spider Solitaire. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

Needless to say, the news in New York City was fairly sluggish that Friday morning. She was tired and slightly crabby –Rebecca had sent her for donuts and coffee once again. Jason had strolled in moments after she arrived from her java run with damp hair and sleep rubbing in his eyes. He slumped into the chair beside her, not once moving in the two hours since arrival. The time was rounding on two o'clock; the news room was quiet with muffled calls to wives or scratching of filing nails.

"Maybe you should up your skills then," Gabriella suggested and sprung forward once again, "Come on, let's have another go."

Jason groaned in boredom, "You promised four games ago that we'd play pinball!"

"I dun't care." She slurred and eagerly jumped towards the mouse again, dark eyes drilling with revenge.

"I'll just call Troy in here and tell him to take off his shirt so you'll agree to my requests." He muttered.

Gabriella wanted to slap him, but the sudden mental imagery of his sculpted muscles momentarily captured her daydream. After contemplating the marble structure of his chest, she shook her head to rid of the fantasy and returned to Jason's bemused smirk once again, "Yeah? Well it's not like you weren't pathetically trying to woo Kelsi last night." The smug look crashed at the reference, throwing the tennis ball of control slamming back at him.

Despite the first encounter which the attraction flew over Gabriella's head, she was not blind to the coy giggles and lip bites that radiated from the pianist once the duo took an intermission. At that time, the coffee shop had one-by-one scattered out so the five of the friends jumped on the opportunity to snatch a couch. Cuddled in the corner of the future with Troy's arm cradling her waist –not to mention the staggered heartbeat thumping against her ribs- she couldn't help but notice the way Kelsi eagerly listened to Jason flaunts and brags. She seemed to be entranced with his goofiness, drawn by his opposite outgoing nature even while she stumbled away, and apparently drunk with infatuation as she shuffled to her next set. Even as the black-trimmed singer skipped to the microphone once again, Gabriella noted with interest how Jason's eyes never left the shimmering fingers of Kelsi as well as the drool that pooled on his lip.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jason asked innocently while leaning back against his chair. The bashful smile was anything but masking, however.

"Oh I don't know. How about the, 'Yeah… they used to call me Hercules cuz I saved them from losing in the play-offs'?"

"Everyone's told a little white lie." He sheepishly ducked his head away.

Gabriella cracked a smile, "So they didn't name you after a god?"

"Fuck off," he growled. "It's not like your new boy toy's honest."

Glowering, her dark eyes drilled daggers into the side of his cheek, "Troy hasn't lied to me, genius," Gabriella snapped, not even bothering to lower her voice against the muffled shuffles the rest of the press provided as background music. She felt a swell of defense rise in her breast and tapped her heel impatiently. The available rubber band resting upon her desk allowed her a physical stress reliever as it tangled around her fingers, "he just doesn't give me answers."

"Oh, sor-ry." Jason replied by drawing out the final word into two syllables with a twinkle of tease.

Gabriella, a now irritated sore loser, raised her hand to protest, "You fu…"

"CROSS!"

Instead of completing her sentence, Gabriella jumped fearfully in her chair at the thundering sound behind her. Heart staggering, she cranked her head around to see Frank lumbering towards the two. She scrambled to exit the screen of the game they were playing, but it was already cleared and reflecting a periwinkle blue back at her. Her gaze shifted towards Jason, who innocently smiled at their boss.

"Uh, hey Frank!" He greeted awkwardly, careful not to catch a wary glance at Gabriella in the process.

Not amused, Frank cocked one of his eyebrows that looked like a caterpillar on steroids, "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Working." They both hiccupped lies.

Frank snorted, unconvinced, "Well whatever you're doing's not as important. Cross, you're headed with Vickers to the courthouse. There's a demonstration over abortion that could get ugly."

Gabriella frowned at the thought of her mentor leaving her, as well as her entertainment for the afternoon. She glared at the monitor in front of her and was reminded of the blank emptiness that filled the access space on the computer, not unlike herself, "Right, camera…" Jason mumbled to himself while rising, sending Gabriella a look of pity in the process.

Frank clasped his hands together, "Take Montez with you."

Both employees shot their heads in his direction with shock, "What?!" They demanded simultaneously with excitement.

"What, do you two share one idiotic brain? Take her with," his hard eyes glared Gabriella up and down, "I don't want her filling up useless space."

Her breath was staggered and her heart was racing. For a brief moment, the world disappeared through her tunnel vision that turned her sight black. Disbelief crossed over the smooth edges of her face. He couldn't have been serious, but the tone was solid with no room for mockery. Hazy in a dreamlike state, Gabriella swayed as she rose to a blind stance. She was suddenly drunk off his words. The room spun with a slight fury until she pressed her fingers to the table to steady herself and found the courage to look Frank straight in the face.

"Are you serious?"

Rolling his dark eyes, Frank never bothered to answer her, "Go find Vickers will you? Before I make you staple things."

It was then that the crash of triumph slammed against her like a swelling wave. Tingles swam through her veins, a fire burned through her heart. Her first assignment was suddenly set, her first REAL adventure since she arrived within the doors of the Tribute. Finally, after beginning to close on two months without action, she was setting out to achieve what she desired. The research she had done seemed as though it was a child's game –time to play with the big boys.

"Montez!" Jason hissed under his breath. The scrutinizing daggers Frank sent her suddenly became very real. Gabriella shook the mess of her hair to clear her thoughts, though her excitement was anything but diminished.

"Right, Rebecca." Gabriella spun around with almost frantically, grabbing at imaginary objects that she would need to collect for this mission. Her knees were wobbling despite the desperation to be professional.

Frank groaned, "Do something about her," he ordered Jason, "And get going… NOW!"

"Going!" Jason snatched his black camera and dazed Gabriella's hand simultaneously, pulling her eagerly towards in the direction to meet Rebecca. They flew easily through the now watching writers as they hurried to weave through the desk, "come on Montez, we're going to go play journalist now."

"Is this real?" Gabriella whispered.

Jason grinned from ear to ear before snapping a candid of her face, "Smell the roses sweetheart, this is as real as it's gonna get."

* * *

With nerves inhibiting the controlling movement of her legs, the very first thing Gabriella did when she stumbled out of the passenger side of the blue company car was fall flat on her ass.

"Whoa, easy there slick." Jason made no effort to muffle his laughter as he climbed over the embarrassed heap lying pathetically on the concrete.

"Shut up." She hissed with mortification. Although all of the eyes in front of the towering pillars of the courthouse were on the crowd with violent signs that juxtaposed the delicate snapshots of innocent newborns and their curious eyes, she still checked around to be sure that no one was snickering at her pathetic efforts. The mob was screaming from a hundred yards away, condensing yet not quite breaking through the barriers. It was easy to thank the upcoming November election for the cause of the chaos.

"What are you doing on the ground?" Rebecca annoyingly asked as she swung around with a recorder in her hand and hard eyes hungry for confessions.

Gabriella didn't even bother to filter her voice when she snapped back, "I'm taking a nap, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Grudgingly, she accepted Jason's hand to bring her to a stance once again, "Thanks." She mumbled and had a surge of desire to slap the idiot grin that cast over his face. However, there was no time for petty fist fights, for Rebecca tossed her the extra microphone and composed her normally gossiping mouth into a straight line of determination.

"Talk to anyone and everyone important. We can deal with the extra protesters later. If they look like they have a story, get the truth out. I don't care if you show them your tits to do it. I want the story, got it?" She instructed like a Nazi guard about to force Gabriella into Auschwitz. Without hesitation, Gabriella nodded in comprehension.

Barely waiting for a response, Rebecca spun around and thrust herself into the thick of the crowd. The yells were escalating, yet not quite brushing the levels of dangerous. Clutching the microphone tightly, Gabriella glanced nervously back at Jason to see he was already clicking snapshots of his camera. Their eyes met when he looked up -an encouraging smile curling on his lips evenly.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Nothing. She had been waiting for this for her whole life.

Sucking in a hot breath, she caught his eye as he winked confidently at her. At least one of them had faith. However, despite the doubt and hesitation, Gabriella spun on her flats and faced the army of anti-abortionists and their rage. It was tempting to shout for all of them to shut up and march her way through, but she was one person in the ocean of hatred. Instead, she prayed to the writing gods that she would survive long enough to be able to have ice cream one last time or at least be able to discover who the hell died in Troy's past. She wasn't counting on either though when she threw herself into suicide.

"Watch it!" The first person immediately attempted to slap her aside the moment she was enclosed with the heated bodies –which surprised her due to the dropping fall temperature. In spite of her slender build, Gabriella was fully prepared to release the full bitchiness of her nature onto all those who got in her way. The protest was not violent, but it did not stop the participants from elbowing her angrily to keep her from wiggling through.

The chants were thundering as she slithered her way towards the front, gripping the recorder as though it was a hand grenade. She was most certainly going to receive bruises, although it didn't matter as long as she got a single interview.

"Lady, there's no way you're gettin' up there." A man with a beard almost as long and white as Santa's attempted to warn her.

Gabriella, though, had a much different idea, "Watch me."

Now in much dangerous territory, Gabriella glanced around hurriedly to see others like her –inquisitive men and women talking into small, silver electronics- already scoping and interviewing. Briefly, she caught a shimmer of blond hair in the sunlight and wondered if it was indeed Rebecca, but quickly forgot as soon as she was reminded of the task at hand. Now the only question was _who _to ask.

Here we go.

"Ma'am! Ma'am!" Gabriella called to the nearest woman. Her face was scarlet with rage and strain that bellowed from her throat. Gabriella shoved through the other protesters until she reached the woman who seemed to have some what direction to her. Her powerful arms shook a sign hovering above them. Her black eyes finally cast on the reporter, eyebrows furrowing into one thick uni-brow. "Gabriella Montez, with the New York Tribute," she clicked the recorder on, "Tell me, ma'am, what human rights…"

"Girl, do you have the nerve to think I have time for this?" the woman snapped. She shook her head and thrust a board in Gabriella's direction, "here, make yourself useful."

No time to take part in the demonstration, Gabriella spun away without a second glance and surveyed the rally once again. She spotted one with power in his bulky build and grabbed his bicep to catch his attention.

"Sir! Sir, Gabriella Montez of the Tribute, I was wondering if you could…"

The man scowled and shrugged off her arm, "Piss off."

The reactions of the others were much like the first, therefore providing her rate of success in the negative percentage –one man actually began to ask _her _what her view on the topic was. Those that did answer were naïve college students that felt the spotlight shine upon them and grasped the brief five minutes of fame. Usually, Gabriella stalked away with a frown and the young adult asking whether a photographer would be taking their picture as well. The protesters of power had already been drilled by other news stations and papers, waving their hands with dismissal when discovering she was not from somewhere elite such as the times.

A gurgle of failure began to build in her stomach. Almost forty-five minutes and thirteen people had passed and she had received nothing more than a few weak interviews that would make Rebecca stomp her shiny heel on the recorder. She could see the menacing face of Frank now, a purple vein on the side of his neck pulsating as he banished her once again to the world of copiers. Desperation padded with the quick movements of her feet. This was her chance –maybe only chance- to prove she belonged. If she couldn't even get protesters to talk to her, what else would she not be able to discover?

Gabriella shuddered off the thought of Troy Bolton's past and once again focused on the task of abandoning the ranting man before her, "I already talked to the Times. Best get out of this mess if I were you." He instructed her.

The groan from her throat was silenced by the fuming chants once again. Eyes burned with angry tears and her head began to throb. She pressed icy fingers to her temple to soothe, just when she heard soothing –yet booming- voice from behind, "Why the long face? We're protesting!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Gabriella caught the sight of a woman standing beside her. A simple t-shirt with "Pro-Life" stamped across the center covered the large and swollen build of her body. Her cheeks were kissed with a sun kissed and chocolate glow; her matching black hair was whisked into a tussled up-do.

"I know." Gabriella mumbled solemnly, squeezing the recorder almost as though she was suffocating her frustrations.

"Ah, reporter?" A warm smile crossed her pillowing cheeks.

Gabriella nodded, "Journalist."

"Where ya from?" The woman asked kindly, almost motherly as the demonstration continued to swirl around her. The police were still standing warily up the steps to the white building, carefully watching incase something deadly would fire. Gabriella sighed sadly at the sight of an elderly gentleman speaking before a video camera and would most likely be recounted by Brian Williams that evening.

"The New York Tribute." Gabriella blushed at the tiny press compared to the exquisite Wall Street Journal.

"The Tribute? Damn honey, I read that paper every morning."

Once again, her face flushed in embarrassment, "Oh um, thanks I guess?"

She chuckled a low, yet honey laugh, "Then what's with the frown?"

Not even realizing she was counterproductive as she spoke with this woman, Gabriella didn't even bother to draw any guard up while speaking. The comfort this woman released was enough for the dam of insecurities. She turned to face her, hands trembling with disgrace, "It's my first assignment and I've tried to talk to thirteen people. Half of them told me to piss off and the others were just skipping class. And now I've got nothing."

"Hmmm," the woman mused, tapping her finger against the rounded curveof her chin, "sounds to me like you need to talk to someone impressive. Girl, you need someone who knows what the hell is goin' on in this crazy town."

There was a dull pang in Gabriella's chest as she looked upon the skeptical smile across her cheeks. There was something hidden about this, yet she couldn't control the sudden ignite of hope that slowly began to ripple through her veins, "I would need to find someone impressive first."

She slung her arm around Gabriella's shoulder, "Well lucky for you, I think I know someone who might be willin' to help you out."

Her heart was racing once again, pounding with the anticipation, "You do?"

"Sure do," the mysterious woman finally removed her grasp and beamed fully at her, "I'll get you the director of this little demonstration. What's your name?"

Gabriella felt faint. She was certain she was going to wake from this euphoric dream at any moment and the jeers and yells would suddenly disappear. But as much as she blinked, the portrait of this woman's motherly face would not dissipate. This was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent real, "Gabriella. Gabriella Montez."

"Well Gabriella, I think my sister would be happy to meet you." She grinned before ushering Gabriella through the mass of protesters towards the turn of her future.

* * *

Troy Bolton made it his life mission to murder whoever was on the shrilling phone at 6:14 AM the next morning.

"Fuck." He murmured and snuggled further beneath the toasty sheets to rebel against whatever sick person decided they were going to punish his much needed sleep. Making no motion to retrieve his cell phone vibrating on the nightstand, Troy flopped over –twisting the sheets around his not quite nude body in the process- and forced his eyes to rip open and stare blankly at the ceiling.

His mind was circulating over the events that would unfold that day: work at 8, hitting the gym, studying, dinner, and then sleep once again. The day seemed all too long and boring for his liking. He hadn't seen Gabriella in days, nor Chad, Sharpay or Alicia for that matter. Even with the upcoming weekend, it seemed as though his life was pathetic enough for him not to be quite as eager.

The momentary lapse of control allowed his mind to drift in the limbo between sleep and reality. He imagined what life would have been like if not for that fateful visit from his girlfriend that April afternoon. Maybe, instead of fighting insomnia in his crammed apartment, he could be sprawled beneath satin sheets, adorned with only the best for the would-be point guard. He allowed himself to become consumed with the fantasy of flying to some new city that very evening and being watched by millions of viewers on their flat screens. But most of all, he dreamt of being able to feel the grooves of the basketball between his fingertips daily, nightly, hourly...

The phone began its ring again.

"Goddamn it!" Troy groaned with much more irritation in his voice this time. Flying over to his side, he angrily gripped his phone and growled at the number on the caller id. He threw his hand up to his forehead and rubbed his eyes before flipping open the device, "this better be fucking good."

"Go get your paper." The overly eager and energized woman instructed on the other line.

Troy swallowed and slammed his hand down on the springing bed, "Give me two reasons why I shouldn't hang up on you right now."

There was a hesitation, almost a as though the person on the other end of the phone was contemplating, "Just do it."

He weighed his options quickly: stay snuggled in bed or do as this voice requested. Grudgingly, Troy complained as he tossed back the covers and swiftly recovered his gray sweats from the flow to push on over his plaid boxers, "Okay, I'm up."

"Go get your paper."

Stomping the entire way, Troy cradled the phone between his ear and the roll of his shoulder –practically slamming his face into the door in the process. He dragged his feet across the living area of his cheap apartment and yanked the front door opened. All was quiet in the hallway, too early for the occupants to awaken even on a work day. He bent down and retrieved The Times and The Tribute –he, along with the rest of his close friends, had also subscribed to The Tribute after Gabriella was hired. He threw the print on the table and once again scrubbed the scars, or eye crusties, of sleep from his eyes, "Got it."

"Open The Tribute to page three."

In his sleepy haze, Troy struggled to flatten the front page out. Staring tauntingly back at him with a giant photograph of a baby reaching towards a protest sign, his eyes bright and curious. He lingered on this picture, a pang of remorse swelling through his heart at the thought of the child…

"Are you there yet?" The bouncing voice burned with exuberance, tearing Troy from the past and once again focusing on the task at hand.

"Page three," he mumbled, "now what?"

"Look at the bottom of the 'Anti-Abortionists Rally' article."

Too early to comprehend what her intonations may be leading too, Troy grumbled about how some people needed their sleep and others were crazy losers who liked to bother their friends. He tapped the paper and lifted it to his face, squinting in order to see the tiny print, "Yeah? What about it?"

He could practically hear her roll those melting eyes on the other side of the line, "Troy. Look at the end of the article!"

"Gabriella, you wake me up just to fucking pull out…" His voice suddenly trailed off and his eyes engorged simultaneously with his hands dropping the paper. Pounding with excitement, his heart rattled and his body finally jump started into the alertness she had requested long ago. He read the letters fourteen times just to be sure that they truly were real, that it was not a sick imagination of the pride swelling beneath his chest. Even if she was not present, Troy let out a in a triumphant yell before releasing the Tribute in time pump his fist, "Holy shit!"

Beneath the final typed sentence in the miniature print stood two names: Rebecca Vickers and…

Gabriella Montez.


	13. Minute Thirteen

**A/N: I'm really, REALLY sorry for the delay on this story. As some of you may know, this is a lot more difficult for me to write than what I have in the past, so I am struggling with it a little more. I'm doing my best -it's just going to take some focus. So thank you so much for sticking with me, and I know this chapter isn't super exciting, but I hope you still enjoy it. Thanks for your comments, they mean a lot. **

* * *

"To Gabriella!"

Glasses clanked loudly around the circular table in a musical clatter. Smiles, shining and proud, were flashed in the direction of the now-published journalist. She was a siren that called to all around her. Beneath the dim lighting of the mildly crowded bar, her normally milky irises were twinkling with twilight. They were the same eyes that gazed through her thick lashes over her martini glass over to the entranced Troy Bolton.

It Friday and everyone agreed that they would not enjoy the weekend unless they celebrated Gabriella's leap towards her future that evening. It had been Troy's idea, although he had called Taylor so she could set up the arrangements with a gleaming happiness in her voice. Seated around the table was Chad and Taylor, canoodling beside him, Zeke and Sharpay caressing on his opposite end, and Gabriella, who was peering at him from across the way. Taylor extended the invitation to Jason, who declined with the alibi of spending the night with his college friends. She also called another, whom Troy wasn't quite certain he was happy about when Taylor informed him.

The sense of accomplishment and confidence only heightened her beauty, or at least that's what Troy thought as he listened to the sound of her harmonic laughter as Chad rumpled the curls tied on top her head. And he was certain he wasn't alone. She was glowing –her skin radiated like an internal sun that burst heat around the drunk and horny inhabitants of the bar. A part of him curled with jealousy when they first strolled in and the men yanked their heads around carnivorously. Protectively, he ushered her through the door with a hand rested upon the curve of her lower back. And yet, his ego was stretched ever so slightly –he was the one she was reading at that moment, not them.

"So, you're practically famous now," Chad lazily commented while stretching his feet out beneath the table. Troy's stomach lurched when he suddenly felt a shoe slowly caress his ankle. Briefly, he reveled in the feel of what he thought was Gabriella's heel rubbing against his jeans oh-so-sensually. Of course, that was until he noticed that there was no point on her shoe and that it suddenly transformed into a sneaker. Annoyed and disgusted, Troy kicked Chad's probing foot, "FUCK!"

He glared at his best friend before taking a long sip of his beer, "Keep your feet to yourself." Troy mumbled under his breath.

Gabriella waved her hand in dismissal, however the smile that beamed across her face did little to hide her modesty, "I'm not famous Chad. I've been published once. Big deal."

"It is a big deal." Troy grinned cheekily. Even in the dark haze, he noticed the blush flowering on her cheeks.

Gabriella rolled her eyes, finger sliding around the edges of her translucent glass, "It doesn't mean anything."

Unable to control himself, Troy's Converse inched its way in the direction which she was seated, much like Chad had a moment before. However, instead of receiving a blow from his immediate left, Gabriella's tiny body jumped in surprise when his sole contacted with the black leggings that formed around her calves. Their eyes met once again, before she flexed her fingers, "Stop being modest," Troy instructed, "or I'm gonna announce to this bar that you're famous."

Lowering her glare, she smirked in amusement, "You won't dare."

Completely oblivious to the fact that their friends were still in their presence, Troy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "Watch me."

"Ugh," Sharpay groaned –her shimmering top produced the illusion that she had disco balls glued onto her shirt. Clearly, by the obnoxious flip of her hair and irritated tapping of her fingers against the table, she was bored of the direction of the conversation, "I'm low. Zeke, go get me another."

Like a lapdog eager to please his master, Zeke rose to her demand. Chad chuckled before scooting out of his chair and unwound his fingers from Taylor's loose grasp, "I need more too."

They both looked at Troy in an almost accusatory way. Rolling his eyes, Troy also removed his foot from Gabriella's muscle and stood to join the other men. He reflexively glanced at her to see if her demeanor changed, but it was still unreadable until she furrowed her eyes in mockery, "Becoming girls now? You can't do anything on your own."

"Bite me." He grumbled and stuck his tongue out at her.

Gabriella giggled –god he loved that laugh- and shook her head vigorously, "You wish Bolton."

"Dude, I hope Sharpay doesn't waste her money on a shitty butler, you're her slave," Chad clapped Zeke on the shoulder teasingly as Troy caught up to them. They swerved through the weaves of tables and chattering parties to reach the counter. Zeke frowned annoyingly. "You're so whipped!"

"If you would actually realize that Sharpay has needs, you'd know I was not whipped." Zeke passionately defended himself. Chad caught Troy's glance and imitated a slave driver cracking a belt against his back.

"Dude, that's pathetic," Chad shook his head. Throwing his arm up to slide on the counter and leaned against the silver stool. His eyes trailed curiously to the woman in a black v-neck and jeans that hugged the thin curves of her body attractively. His afro bobbed as he nodded his head –the tight ringlets of her red mane resembled his only much longer and more defined, "how you doing?"

Troy slapped the heel of his palm to his forehead, "I hope Taylor dumps your ass."

The bartender smirked and leaned forward, "What can I get for yah?"

Zeke ordered another extravagant drink that Troy could barely pronounce, while the other two requested for two glasses of beer. While the bartender tilted her head in almost recognition in his face, he threaded his hands through the back of his hair and awkwardly turned away to hide himself. Running his gaze over the occupants of the bar, he felt a magnet draw towards the table where his vacant spot sat. He couldn't help himself –the distant smile curled on his face as he watched Gabriella lean her head towards Taylor, laughing gleefully the way she was meant to.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Troy lost himself again and became completely oblivious to the vacancy of Zeke as he wandered back to his girlfriend. It wasn't until he felt a sharp slap on the back of his skull that he once again returned to reality. He shot to Chad, irritated and glaring, "Ouch!"

"Dude, the drool's disgusting. You look like a dog."

"Fuck off." Troy snapped before snatching his beer, fingers slipping at the condensation that pooled on the side of the glass.

Chad skeptically raised an eyebrow, "So what are you gonna do about that?" He nodded in the direction of the journalist once again.

Troy swallowed and struggled to play stupid, "About what?"

He knew exactly what was what. Chad wasn't blind. The entire group of friends wasn't blind. Honestly, he was pretty sure Gabriella wasn't even hidden to his attraction for her. They were close, much more attached then what he originally believed possible. A draw he had towards her was powerful, yet easy. It wasn't difficult to find a place with her, despite her avid plan to uncover the bones hidden in his past. Yet, Troy was wary. He hoped she wasn't taking advantage of their –for lack of a better word- relationship to unveil him. However, he liked how he called to her. He liked how desperately interested she was in him.

Basically, he just liked her.

It was Chad's turn to roll his eyes, "About your love for Taylor, you idiot." The sarcasm leaked through his tone.

Troy sighed; finding that fighting what was truly consuming his mind was a pitiful waste of time, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm gonna do."

True to his words, Troy glanced over at Gabriella once again to see that her eyes were shifting to the side as well. The smile on her face reached her eyes as she turned to him. Softly, her finger lifted and she subtly coaxed him back over to their spots. He swallowed thickly, yet weakly grinning back at her. Hand lifting, Troy silently informed her it would only be a short minute before returning to her.

"Just, man, promise me something."

The intensity of Chad's voice was overwhelming. It forced Troy to turn toward him, eyes furrowed and curious, yet slightly afraid of what was about to be revealed, "Sure?" He hesitated; thumb caressing the side of his drink.

Eyes black and threatening, Chad leaned towards him, "Don't make Gabriella another Alicia."

At first, the words spoken seemed foreign to Troy. It seemed impossible to compare Gabriella to Alicia. Chad's face was drilling into his, like he was shooting rounds of warnings into his best friend, "What do you mean?"

Chad never removed his glare as he spoke slowly, much of a contrast to the usually bouncy humor in his voice, "Whatever shit goes down between you and Alicia is between you two," he was stone with caution, "but Gabs' is like my sister, and if you're using her just because of what happened with Em…"

"Stop," Troy ordered and finally dropped his gaze, stomach clenching before Chad could finish uttering her name. Curtaining from the rest of the world, his eyes veiled shut automatically. This was forbidden; Troy hated the vulnerability that her name produced. The numbness of his fingers, the image of her casket lowering into the ground rippled angst through him. He hated it, "look, I really like Gabriella." He confessed before opening his eyes once again to return to the bar.

"You really like Alicia too." Chad pointed out with bitterness.

He didn't want to argue, nor allow himself to be weak by the haunting thoughts of the blonde hair that used to bring him such joy instead of sorrow, "It's not the same. Alicia's my best friend Chad. We know what we're doing."

Chad groaned, "This isn't about Alicia. It's about…"

"I don't give a damn who you think it's about," Troy growled, his fury now reaching breaking points. The whites of his knuckles almost punctured holes through his skin. His eyes –navy with a raging hurricane swirling in them- narrowed into slits, "I'm not looking for ass, Chad. Have a little faith in me."

His best friend sighed and finally lowered the scowl from his face when his gaze dropped to the swirling amber liquid he held tightly in his grasp. Whether Troy had convinced him or not was undefined –Chad had an unreadable expression over his lips, "I do have faith in you." He muttered, lifting his alcohol to his mouth and taking a slow, yet heavy gulp.

Troy nodded and grabbed Chad's shoulder comfortingly, "Trust me, alright? I'll figure it out."

The warning flashed in Chad's black eyes once again. His leather skin reddened with both passion and threat as he spoke lowly, "You know I'll kick your ass if you use her."

"I won't," Troy promised truthfully, "I can't do that to her."

Silence hung in the immediate air around them in contrast to the chatter around them. Chad's words swam through his head with hesitation. The relationship between Troy and Alicia was much different than the situation presented to him. Alicia promised she had no other feelings for him besides a snuggle-buddy and someone to eat junk food without complaining that it will rot in their thighs. The last thing he ever wanted was to use Gabriella. His attraction for her was much deeper than channeling to numb his bitterness from years past.

Troy shook his head to rid the riddle that began to formulate in his thoughts. He wasn't even sure of what could come of their relationship, so fretting over it now seemed pointless.

"We should probably head back." Chad commented as though he had not just completed scolding his best friend. Troy nodded in agreement, finally lifting his eyes once again. Capturing the smile that Gabriella flashed his way, he watched as she eagerly waved her hand to summon him once again, "Oh fuck…here we go."

He was so consumed with grinning at her that he didn't notice the brunette who just strolled in to join the party. Taking a step forward, he was blind to the way the blonde's hair tossed in a sudden ravenous fury. It wasn't until a shrilling shriek pierced his ears that he lifted his eyes to view Alicia walking towards the group and Sharpay's sharp screech.

Troy tossed his head back and moaned, "Awe shit."

* * *

Although it seemed like a lifetime, Gabriella truthfully had not known Sharpay for that long. She knew the blonde had a passion for prancing around a stage dressed in frilly or obnoxious costumes. In the short amount of time since their meeting, it was uncovered that she was rich with wealth and sarcastic in her personality. Casually, Sharpay smoked a cigarette or two –although her vice was not enough to consider her an addict. She was feisty –demanding when she wanted to be and damn good at it.

Gabriella also knew that an ear-splitting scream meant she was unhappy about something. And as she shot her head around, she discovered exactly what –or she should say who- that something was.

"You've got to be _fucking_ kidding me!" Sharpay hissed, whether or not she cared that a few onlookers glanced over to be sure the scream was not a dying animal. The drunkenness controlled her emotions. Even for a flamboyant girl, Gabriella knew Sharpay would have kept her anger hidden while Alicia was present if she was sober.

Alicia seemed just as happy to be in her presence as Sharpay was. Her arms were crossed with defiance and power, jeans riding low on her hips. Her skin, however, was pulled tight against her cheeks in irritation that Sharpay was acting like a four year-old. Although Gabriella had given Taylor the okay to extend the invitation to her, she wasn't going to hide that she wished Alicia chose the night to study or drink with her roommates instead.

"Sharpay!" Taylor scolded as though Sharpay was her daughter or a younger sister.

Sharpay wheeled around and glared behind her. Gabriella felt her breath catch as the two men who had been lingering at the bar approached them. Troy didn't meet her gaze and instead fixed himself at the fuming woman before him. Alicia shifted her weight awkwardly –though Gabriella wasn't quite she why she did not just come over. It seemed bizarre.

"YOU!" Sharpay roared. Her finger jutted out in an accusatory way –the crimson paint on her nails glimmered beneath the lighting like blood.

Troy's eyes bugged, "Me? What the hell did I do?"

It seemed Gabriella was the only one uncomfortable with the fact that Alicia was standing mere feet from them. Briefly, their eyes locked upon each other and Gabriella wasn't sure if it would be more appropriate to snicker at the lawyer or tilt her head sympathetically. Animalistic wise, she wished for the former, but in reality, she performed the latter.

"_You_," Sharpay snarled, "Invited her."

"He didn't, I did." Taylor confessed without fear of being ripped apart as Gabriella thought.

"This is about Gabriella -don't you think you should have asked her?"

Taylor shook her head annoyingly, "I already asked her alright? Calm down."

"Do you really think she fucking wants the girl Troy's humping celebrating with her?" Sharpay shot candidly, which immediately widened every occupant of the table as well as Alicia lurking in the corner.

Gabriella's stomach lurched. Wait, lurch was a poor word. Instead, a brick smashed through her stomach and punctured a hole through her abdomen. She fought to keep her eyes away from anyone; however, her reflexive reaction rebelled against her and forced her gaze upwards. Brown met blue, his stare flickering desperately between each iris. Her heart jack-hammered against her chest furiously. Despite the other five drilling holes into her body, the only pair she cared about was his.

For once, he was reading her, not the other way around.

It could have been mere minutes before anyone moved or it could have been hours. Time had become irrelevant, not while Troy breathed just as fearfully as she did. In reality, it was a daunting seventy-four seconds before a flicker from the corner shimmied. Apart from her pulse, the only sound Gabriella heard in those long moments were the gentle click of a heel from her left.

"Do I need to go?"

There was an underlying pain in Alicia's tone that finally caused Gabriella to tear her eyes away from Troy's. Her face was hard –the weakness in her voice did not match the fire in her face. She suddenly felt sympathy for her. Before Gabriella could rebut, another spoke and beat her to it.

"Yes." Sharpay rudely pushed back against her chair in a sneer.

"No." Both Troy and Taylor simultaneously said. Gabriella couldn't help but catch her bottom lip between her teeth at the sound of his passion.

The conversation was pointless, really. The argument was brewing due to Sharpay's intoxication, but Gabriella was too irritated to stand their petty spats. Sharpay was over Troy, so she had no reason to bring down the party because one girl entered the bar. However, selfishly, Gabriella would not deny that she was irritated that Alicia would come sweeping in here and steal Troy's attention. She had been too happy before, too excited about the printing of her name to be brought down by something so… _stupid_.

Finally, which shaking hands, Gabriella rose from her seat and locked her gaze on Alicia indifferently, "No. You don't need to leave."

Gabriella herself was surprised by the weight of her voice. The others were silent, and briefly, she contemplated leaving all together. Whatever sore rubbed against Alicia and Sharpay was their business, and frankly she wanted no part of it to bring her mood down. If they wanted to discuss how unethical it was for Alicia and Troy to sixty-nine, it was between them.

"I need a drink." She mumbled to no one and turned away from the table. Eyes drilled into her back as she parted, but Gabriella didn't glance back once before she reached the counter and huffed out a sigh. Behind the bar, the tender tilted her head amusedly while wiping the grime off the inside of a glass.

"Rough night?" She asked; the fiery red in her hair was a contrast to the dark atmosphere.

"You could say that," Gabriella murmured and tapped her fingers against the surface, "Give me whatever. Preferably vodka… and a lot of it." She waited without turning around, rubbing her hands over her cheeks until they became raw. This wasn't exactly what she expected when she informed Taylor that Alicia could attend as well. The party had shifted horribly wrong.

She felt a presence hover beside her, however, she was shocked when she heard the feminine tone, "You didn't have to walk away."

Truly not believing her ears, Gabriella whipped her head around to see Alicia leaning against the frame of the bar. Her lips were pursed and nude –dulling the intensity of the jade in her eyes. She studied Gabriella curiously, by no means scrutinizing, just inquisitive.

Gabriella shrugged and watched as Alicia's toned arm flexed, revealing a muscle, "I didn't exactly want to hang out with middle schoolers tonight," She bitterly snapped.

It irritated her that Alicia weakly laughed. She must have caught the black gloss of Gabriella's eye and trailed off in a lame attempt to lighten the situation. Sighing, Alicia tapped the counter just as the bartender placed Gabriella's mystery drink down and warily eyed the two, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin this night for you."

"You didn't ruin anything." Gabriella snapped back as though she was being accused of being over sensitive.

"Sharpay got over whatever problem she had with Troy a long time ago," Alicia explained –the story was pointless for Gabriella was already well aware that the blonde crushed on him. "But we just, don't get along. And it's not fair to drag it while you were celebrating. I'm sorry."

Gabriella glanced back over to the table to see Troy was standing –his brilliant eyes darted between the two. She tried not to glare, but instead nodded her head in his direction while turning back, "Did he put you up to this?"

Alicia immediately shook her head, leaving no room for lies, "No. He wanted to talk to you instead. I told him to piss off because it had nothing to do with him."

It was Gabriella's turn to snort, "He likes to think the world revolves around him."

Cracking a smile, Alicia eagerly nodded –seemingly happy that Gabriella was no longer cold to her. But the humor faded, and she blew air out of the side of her mouth in a sigh, "Look, I know Troy better than a lot of people. He does the things he does because he doesn't wanna hurt himself again –or anyone else."

The dormant journalist in her stirred once again. Gabriella felt a pounding desire to press the matter as she gazed up into the tangled web of emerald, but instead found herself silent. Gabriella knew Alicia would never betray Troy's trust and she couldn't allow herself to push the matters. She didn't have to like her, but Gabriella was going to have to get along with Alicia if he wanted any spot in Troy's life. The very last experience she wanted was to find herself shunned just as Sharpay had been.

Alicia chewed on her lip before her gaze dropped to the floor, "He… he really cares about you."

This sent Gabriella's heart aflutter. Unfortunately, she didn't have the backbone to bring herself to state words that she knew while his fuck-buddy was standing before her. She also didn't have the kindness to say that Alicia meant more to him than she did. It may have been the truth, but Gabriella refused to allow herself to admit it. Although Alicia was being polite and making an effort, this did not silence the tiny grudge the journalist had against her. Gabriella kept telling herself it was natural, human to feel this way.

"Anyways, I'm starting to think he's going to spontaneously combust if he doesn't talk to you soon," Alicia smiled slowly again, though the curve did not quite reach her eyes. "I think you should come back so we can celebrate your publish-ment properly."

Seeing the effort, Gabriella grinned back, "Is 'publish-ment' even a word?"

She shrugged, "You're the writer here."

Both giggled, "I wasn't mad," Gabriella explained with a gentle shrug, letting the truth of the situation out, "I just think that it's petty."

Alicia nodded in agreement, "It is, but that's who Sharpay and I are." She glanced down at the floor once again in embarrassment. Gabriella tried not to stare over the edges of her face and judge, but she couldn't help herself to see the lawyers weakened stance. It seemed she didn't have many vulnerable sides, but it was quite obvious that Troy was most defiantly one of them. Even if he irritated her, she couldn't blame Alicia for feeling strongly for her best friend on the catatonic level. Did she agree with their free for all sex? Absolutely not, but she was not going to judge if Alicia just enjoyed Troy's intimate touch without attachment. It just seemed unfair that she could rob Gabriella of the happiness if they suddenly continued to rev back up once again.

"I know. It doesn't take a detective to figure out."

Alicia gave her a warm smile, "Or a journalist?"

"Funny."

She shrugged once again, "Come on, Troy's about to have a heart attack. He probably thinks I'm telling you about the time he wore his underwear inside out."

Gabriella's eyes bugged in amusement and laughter spilled from her throat, "He did?"

Alicia winked, "Oh... I guess I wasn't supposed to say anything."

With that, she motioned they begin the return back to the table once again. They caught an awkward, yet friendly glance at each other before Gabriella politely pulled up another chair for Alicia –allowing her rightful place next to Troy. Easing herself back into the seat across from them, Gabriella caught Sharpay's scowl but the actress was silent and Gabriella would have bet money they scolded her in her absence. Conversation slowly began to build once again and in time, it was as though the encounter never even occurred. Everything eventually returned back to normal…

…except the disappointment that curled on Troy's face for the rest of the evening.


	14. Minute Fourteen

**A/N: I apologize greatly again for the delay of this chapter. I'm trying, **_**really **_**trying with this story but it's more difficult. A lot of you know how much I've been struggling, but for those that don't, please don't think that I'm not. Thank you so much for reading and having faith in me. Your reviews are incredible and I'm very grateful for each of you. Thank you.**

**And because I have a gut feeling people are going to ask me... this is NOT the last chapter. We've still got a ways to go.**

**I think this chapter has been a long time coming, so I really hope you enjoy. It is a pretty special number. Thanks again.**

* * *

"Troy?"

This was stupid, idiotic really. He could have called. No, scratch that –he SHOULD have called.

She stood with one hand placed upon the opened door and the other reached up to her face to gently rub the sleep from her eyes. Her black coils were collected and frazzled at the top of her head. Dressed in a mismatch of a red tank top and powdered blue shorts, her body left little room for the imagination with the miles of her olive legs that stretched to the floor. A lime sport's bra was falling off her thin shoulders and allowed access to the plain before her petite chest. She squinted through dreams, searching for an unexplained answer. There didn't seem to be a hint of anger with her presence, but then again, if it wasn't for her saying his name, he thought she wouldn't have been able to tell if it were him or Santa Clause.

"Uh, hey," Troy greeted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck in pure embarrassment, "can I come in?"

Gabriella blinked with her eyes glossed over in a hazy cloud. Unable to help himself, Troy chuckled at the adorableness of just waking up. She appeared so vulnerable -so tiny and fragile as she sent him a wobbly smile. Even though her childlike behavior though, Troy couldn't help but absorbed how utterly beautiful she was. The way her dark eyes were cleaned of make up and the mess of her hair was sexier than the way she looked with her short skirts or dipping cleavage. Troy was captivated –he was entranced and hypnotized by her.

"What?" Gabriella innocently asked. Before Troy could respond however, her face illuminated with recognition, "oh yeah."

She widened the door for him to enter, stepping behind in the process. He entered, his eyes not removed from the perfection of her body. Thumping forcefully, his heart staggered at the sight of her: her radiance and appeal. There was absolutely no question that, even in the few seconds that he had seen her in this state, she was by far the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen just risen from a slumber. And he was counting the living and the dead.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" He asked as he turned to her. Her hand gently closed the door again and rested her mass of curls against the wooden surface. Her eyelids were fluttered closed with a purple sheen of rest shimmering over the top of her skin.

Nodding her head lazily, she sighed softly before she spoke, "Yes, you did."

Chuckling, Troy took a step towards her and felt the heat beneath his skin rise, "I guess it's payback for your phone call the other day."

"Mmmm." She moaned almost delicately, rubbing her hair up against the surface of the door. Muscles mesmerized and only responsive to her, his hands carefully reached for the smooth surface of her arm. Gently, his cool fingers ghosted over her flesh, thumb caressing.

As fast as the action occurred, Gabriella's eyes suddenly ripped open like a midnight sun. Frantically, her stare bugged and she jumped out of Troy's touch. Completely ignoring the fact that he was still standing in front of her, she skidded towards the kitchen and shoved her head to the reflection the microwave bounce back at her. She gasped with horror as though Frankenstein was glaring back at her. Palms smacking to her face, she groaned distraughtly, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…"

"You wanna do what?" Troy mocked, stifling the chuckles that couldn't be contained.

Gabriella spun to him with fiery daggers. Her finger shot out accusingly, face flushed with pure mortification and rage, "What the _hell _are you doing here? Haven't you even heard of sleeping?"

Troy rolled his eyes before taking a step forward, "Gab, it's nine."

Gabriella glowered at him, "You at least could have called so I don't look like a pile of shit."

"Oh shut up," he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, sending her a warm, yet teasing smile. Gabriella glanced at him again, her face ruby yet. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself on the counter. "It's just me alright? I'm not gonna whip out a camera, I swear." Troy promised; his voice even and velvet.

Biting her lip, Gabriella turned to him to face him fully, "What _are_ you doing here?" She asked again, folding her hands over her stomach and arching her back to slide up and sit on the surface beside the oven. Her legs dangled freely as she tapped her fingers against her taught stomach impatiently.

It was Troy's turn to sigh, "I wanted to apologize." He confessed, watching her slowly in case she might snap at him.

Her eyes furrowed in confusion, "Apologize for what?"

"Last night." Troy swallowed and let the heavy air swirl around them once again. Gabriella immediately directed her attention to the floor at the mention, but the tension didn't lessen. She twisted her fingers together nervously. Hair standing on end, Troy shifted his weight between his feet and waited. The silence was unbearable, until finally Gabriella shrugged her shoulders and shook her loose curls.

"There's nothing to apologize for."

He took another step forward, closing the hot distance between them, "It was your night and I ruined it."

"You didn't ruin anything. Please stop apologizing. You didn't tell them to argue." Gabriella finally looked up, her eyes black with both truth and irritation.

"I know I just," running his hand through his spiked bangs, Troy once again sighed with distress, "I come off as a shitty dick who doesn't give a damn what happens to anyone else. I don't want you to think I use people."

Gabriella chewed on her bottom lip once again, "I don't think that at all."

They had already been over that he was no longer going to be sleeping with Alicia, but Troy still couldn't help but feel as though he was dirty. Gabriella _made _him feel dirty. Unintentionally of course, but when the topic of their affair was brought up the previous evening, it forced Troy to realize how terrible he sounded. Chad's words were still swimming around in his head. He didn't want to hurt her, nor make her feel as though she didn't mean anything to him romantically. If he was serious about the progression he wished for, he was going to have to prove to her that she would be the only one he would be with.

"Can I ask you something?"

Troy lifted his head to meet the small whisper. He nodded, crossing the distance between them and standing beside her. The apartment was empty apart from their heartbeats, "Yeah."

"Um," her gaze dropped down to meet his rested beside her. Troy had a surging sensation to squeeze his position between her legs as a –dare he say- boyfriend might do. But he remained frozen, paralyzed by her, "okay, it's too awkward."

Years of cockiness before the funeral had taught him how to woo a woman –Troy dropped his forehead and gazed through his brow, "Just ask me."

Gabriella swallowed thickly, "Why do you and Alicia sleep together if you don't love her?"

Ah. The million dollar question.

Never had it straight come out of either of the two's mouth that Troy was having sexual relations with this best friend. Was he somewhat uncomfortable with this conversation? Sure, but in some bizarre, twisted way, Gabriella deserved to know. Or at least know as much as possible. If he had any chance with her, any chance of taking their friendship to another level he _truly _hadn't experienced since his dead fiancée, she deserved to make the choice of whether Troy was worthy or not.

He chuckled –although one couldn't really consider it a laugh, "It's complicated."

"I can keep up."

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, "I do love her," Troy watched her face intently, though her expression was indifferent as he spoke, "but not in the way that I can see the rest of my life with her –or even date. She's my best friend, but whatever the fuck we have… relationship, friendship," their eyes met, "it was never what I wanted. It's so fucked up. She keeps promising she feels nothing, but I'm so fucking scared she's lying."

He waited to be judged, to be told that he was a dick and be booted out. But Gabriella tilted her head curiously, "Then why do you do it?"

There was never something he so desperately needed someone to understand as he did at that moment. His heart jack hammered wildly, his mind was twisting like a hurricane, and his breath came in quick, quiet gasps, "You know when you're little, and you like… fall off a skateboard or a swing?"

Gabriella cracked a sad smile while carrying herself into the past by looking at her hanging feet, "I fell while biking with my best friend." She pointed to her kneecap –a white scar contrasted against her olive skin. Rushed by a dare, Troy's palm curled around her leg, smoothing over the mark with his thumb. Their eyes snapped to the other's, searching desperately. A tension curled around them, however this was a different tension than what haunted the air moments ago. This was: exciting, inviting, foreign.

"What did you do?"

"Started crying. My mom ran outside to save me," her eyes twinkled like endless stars, "she kissed it to make it better."

A sudden realization flashed over her profile. She sharply gasped, knees tightening beneath Troy's hold.

Troy, with his ceruleans firing like blazing sapphires, whispered slowly, "Exactly."

There was so much he wanted to say. So much he wanted to tell her and reveal. His guard dropped, and for a microscopic moment, he was going to. The truth lingered upon his lips, tingled like an itch wanting to be scratched. It would be so easy to reveal his cards. The Texas Hold 'em of his past would end. There would be no need for a poker face, no need to skirt around the truth.

But he couldn't do it. The bait was out, and if Gabriella wanted a taste, she'd crave it on her own.

"It's so fucked up." He mumbled, both disappointed with himself and his actions.

Suddenly, a hand cupped the side of his face and intertwined into his short hair. He was forced to look up again –to stare into the softness of her cheeks, the depth of her eyes, and the passion of her lips. Breathing was difficult, there was so much he wanted to do with her, yet so many barriers that stood between them. Time that ticked away was counted by their heartbeats, the erratic thumping that echoed through the apartment. The connection was intimate, not in the way that pulled his dick with longing or heightened his libido. This was different: it was emotional, careful, and gentle.

Perfect.

Hours –or minutes, the sense of time was lost- past before Troy finally pealed himself away from her. Gabriella softly smiled down at him. She wiggled her way to the ground, "What are you doing tonight?" The seriousness of the moment was fading, lost in some ghostly wind before Troy grinned cheekily at her.

Gabriella matched his happiness, radiating her beauty once again, "Have something in mind?"

"Have dinner with me." Troy requested, not demanded.

Her finger was brought to her chin and she pondered playfully. A boyish smirk cast over his features, feeling giddy and light once again, "I think I can clear my schedule."

Was that a yes? He let out a breath of eagerness. The pressure that always came along with the nerves in asking someone out dropped. She had so quickly changed her demeanor from thoughtful to relatively, well, _happy_.

"Really?" his heart was pounding unevenly once again with excitement, "eight sound good to you?"

Gabriella nodded profusely –her curls spilled out of her ponytail in a way that almost looked like Chad's afro on steroids. She eagerly crossed the room again and stood an arms length away, "Eight sounds amazing."

"Okay," Troy coached himself as though he was one of his own athletes before beaming brightly. His mind mentally reeled over what needed to be done: shopping, cleaning, showering. All was happening so fast, but he didn't want it to end. He'd scrub his entire apartment just to make sure this went right, "so I'll see then?"

She bit her lip to control her eagerness, "Eight."

Feeling lucky and daring, Troy ignored the stagger of his pulse as he leaned over and swiftly kissed her cheek. His lips burned of the sweet taste of her skin. As he slowly pulled away, his face flushed by the shocked –and pleased- cast her face left, "Don't feel like you need to dress up." He informed her, though she stared unseeingly ahead of her. He was curious to whether or not she heard him.

Stepping away, Troy finally ripped his sight from her and marched towards the door with an anticipated bounce in his step. Reaching for the door, he waved over his shoulder. However, before he left, he turned around to see Gabriella glowing one more time, "Hey Gabriella?"

Her eyes were glassed with a haze, "Hmmm?"

"The pajamas are cute, by the way."

Troy was lucky enough to shut the door just before a spatula came flying at his head.

* * *

"You're lying."

"I am not!"

"Yes you are."

Gabriella watched as the man before her slowly rose from the table –his blue eyes glittered with both excitement and delight as he gazed upon her from across the way. A steaming bowl of pasta separated them, along with dirty dishes and a mountain of garlic bread. He grinned at her in sort of a cheeky way that was by no means truthful, but mocking. She glared –though the curl of her lips mutinied against her- and placed her creamy fork back onto the dish.

"I'm tellin' you, I cooked this all on my own," Troy defended. Gabriella tried not to swoon as he stretched his arm out, for the way he twisted in his white thermal long sleeve clung to his chest tight enough so she could drool over defined curves of his pectorals, "You finished?" He nodded towards her plate and coaxed for her to hand it to him.

Gabriella's white cardigan that was tossed over the back of her chair slipped off the wood forgotten as she stood as well. Carefully, she handed the cheep glass to him and shook her head, "And I'm telling you that I don't believe it."

"Yeah? Why is that?" He called over his shoulder while strutting towards the sink and gently ran water to rinse the excess Alfredo down the drain.

"Because," Gabriella began, snatching her glass of water from the table and carried it with her before she pressed her jean covered hip to his counter, "your taste is too good in take out. You know your pizza flavor like you know the back of your hand. Your fridge," her hand tauntingly slid down the surface of his refrigerator, "is filled with beer, milk, and tinfoil."

"For the record, the beer's Chad's," he smirked before clattering the plate into the sink, "what's your point?"

The night was easy and pleasant with firing of jokes and tempting glances. Gabriella couldn't really describe the change in them. The blissfulness that came along with the confession that morning seemed to bond them closer together, if that was even possible. She had arrived sharply at eight with a bottle of wine and a bright smile. He hugged her longer than necessary as they slid into their spots at the table, chattering mindlessly about topics that really didn't matter. It was seemed if there was any tension between them; it disappeared like the smoke of his past.

Rolling her eyes, Gabriella took a long sip of her water, "My point is that you're too good at eating junk food to be a good cook."

Troy chuckled deeply. Mellow music hummed around them from a stereo beside the television and the lights –though fully illuminated- had a dimmed appeal that was slightly intimate. There was an even balance of attraction and friendship as they moved with and around each other. Many may have been pushing for some action on the couch or between the sheets or even for their lips to brush in general. It didn't seem necessary –then again, Gabriella would admit in a heartbeat that she had officially mesmerized the shape of his mouth she had daydreamed of his kiss for so long. But all said done, whether it was official or not, it was most definitely one of the best "date" nights she had ever had.

"Okay, okay. Fine, I didn't _make _the pasta, Zeke did." Troy explained while Gabriella pumped her fist triumphantly.

"I knew it!"

"Don't get too cocky," he warned and stepped towards the table again, collecting the leftovers of their meal, "I did cook it after he made it."

Gabriella walked to him, close enough to smell the musky scent of his cologne, and placed her glass in the sick, "I still win," he reached over and gently snapped a towel in her direction. Eyes widening, she jumped back in fright and listened to his laugh once again. She glared at his snickers and crossed her arms pouting, "Don't you dare Bolton!"

Throwing the towel down upon the counter again, he resumed his task in saran wrapping the bowls like Christmas packages, "So, because this was totally last minute… we can like, go somewhere if you want." His hands were quick in their tucks –Gabriella wondered if this was practiced with hours of ball handling.

Frowning, she thought of losing the privacy if they left for a bar or listened to music or even just walked along the street. Gabriella shook her head, her loose waves tumbling over her peach tank top, "I'm cool with just staying here. You do have a TV."

"Really?" Troy responded with a fake surprise as his head swiveled around searchingly, "I never knew that."

Smacking his chest, Gabriella giggled, "So um, do you want help with dishes or something?"

He glanced back at the sink to see the mountain that built of glass wear. His eyes narrowed in disgust and he turned back to her, shining those sparkling teeth, "I'll throw them in the dishwasher. You seem to have your heart set on the TV." He stuck out his tongue in jest, which only earned him a slap of his chest once again. Gabriella rolled her eyes just as Troy finished replacing the damp towel. Gingerly, he pealed her fingers from the crystal glass of water and took her hand –their fingers laced in a warm embrace.

Troy led her to the couch and motioned her to take a seat. She obeyed his instructions and watched as he dug for the remote. Unable to control her natural instincts, she followed the lines of his muscles work as his arms flexed and strained. This led to her admiring the rest of his body –how his chestnut hair stood perfectly in front yet was still long enough so she could thread her fingers through and feel the softness of the strands. There was something about the way his shirt clung to him, or maybe it was the way his sapphire eyes glittered when he finally found the controller.

"Here we go." Troy fell onto the couch after her, immediately encircling his arm around her lower waist and used both hands to fumble with the remote in a comfortable hug.

Gabriella giggled and reflexively pressed her cheek against the toasty surface of his chest. Some might have been awkward or found their heart was staggering at the direct contact. The two, however, were so comfortable with each other that it seemed anything but strange. Of course, Gabriella's heart still skipped three beats when he finally settled on a basketball game and rested his hand upon the curve of her hip. Their relationship was an even balance of both lust and comfort.

He didn't look at her, but he didn't need to. His hand slipped ever so gently, drawing intricate circles upon the silky fabric of her shirt. Every so often, Gabriella's eyes would flutter shut and she would once again be taken back to a simpler time of homework and Friday night lights. She remembered the stagger of her heart when her first boyfriend held her this way. Stripped back, she felt a sense of innocence; it was a coverage that physicality was not driving their touches. Just cuddling in his arms felt better than any horny hook up.

"The season just started, right?" Gabriella asked inquisitively. Although she knew the game consisted of two baskets, a ball and five players per team, the most experience she had with basketball was dressing in pure yellow for her high school team.

Flashing her a bright smile at her interest, Troy nodded, "College? Yeah… these games don't really count. You don't follow it?"

Gabriella blushed, suddenly wishing she had older male siblings so she wouldn't sound as feebleminded, "Not really."

Troy's eyes glanced down and he muttered under his breath, "That makes sense."

"What?"

If it was possible, he brought her closer, "Nothing."

They were silent again, though the stillness was anything but awkward. Every so often, Troy's chest became rigid and he cheered encouragement for his favored team quietly. It was fascinating to Gabriella, to watch his true passion play on the screen. However, along with the enjoyment, her head was circling a raging cyclone. He _loved _the game; she could see it with the flicker of his turquoise eyes and the passion in his voice.

So why the hell did he not continue it?

There were so many possibilities, so many scenarios on so many different levels. It could have been a simple answer: he had decided to focus on school work, his grades had slipped, his parents thought he was going no where, he was cut before he could begin. But other hypothesizes crossed her mind as well. Had he been caught with steroids? Did he get in trouble with the law? Was his love put on hold for spending more time having sex with Alicia? Did he get injured? All Gabriella knew was that with the glow of his cheeks –there had to be a reason.

The flashes on the screen blurred as her head became jumbled with empty conclusions and false images as time once again became an imaginary. Her legs were folded and pushed to the side, turning slightly numb with the lack of movement. Troy's left hip was pushed up against the edge of the couch, his feet propped on the coffee table. Glancing at her, his hand rubbed friction on the bare skin of her arm, "Comfortable?"

"Fine." Gabriella did her best not to twist at the awkward position her abdominals were turned. Instead, she nodded a lie. However, her efforts were proven to a waste, for she shivered involuntarily at the lack of straps on her arm. Troy chuckled before arching his back upward.

"You wanna do me a favor?"

Gabriella giggled once again, "That depends."

He grinned before flickering his eyes towards the bedroom –Gabriella's breath reflexively caught, "In my room, I think under my dresser is a blanket. You wanna grab it?"

"You're really gonna make your guest do your dirty work?" she asked, but still slipped from his grasp anyways, "you're a shitty host."

"Fine, then freeze to death." Troy wiggled his eyebrows.

Gabriella pushed off his knee to gain momentum to rise to a stand. She could feel his eyes on her as she stretched, a slightly smug plastered over that oh-so attractive visage. Their gaze met, filled with teases and flirtation, "I'll be back." She announced before strutting away from the couch and to where the shadows of the door awaited, both warnings and inviting.

To her dying day, she would never know if Troy sent her in his bedroom that night blindly or if the action was planned. As she stepped through the threshold, the blood red curtains that shimmied the New York lights into the room swayed with mystery. She silently padded on the carpet –her eyes lingered on the charcoal colored spread that covered his queen sized bed. Shuttering, Gabriella tried not to think of the other female in his life who may have spent countless nights beneath the low ceiling or watched the sun rise through the blackened window.

She spotted the neutral tone of his dresser across the room. Careful not to touch the bed, she skated towards the location and slowly bent over. "Blanket… blanket…" She mumbled to herself while scanning the wood. Sure enough, below the last drawer was a red and white tie fleece. Bending to the floor, Gabriella retrieved the soft material before fate intervened.

As she rose, she clumsily forgot the dresser had an edge to it. Much too eager to return to Troy, she thrust her head upwards and slammed violently against the wood. Pain rippled through her head in spider webs as she forcefully gripped the back of her head. "FUCK!" She cursed loudly and squeezed her eyes shut. The injury throbbed with agony, and it was in the brief moments of vulnerability that she heard the thunderous sound of metal thumping on the carpet.

Muttering profanity, Gabriella massaged the soreness on her skull and dropped to her knees. Her vision was blinded by pain and stars were circling around the darkened bedroom. She tapped her fingers to the carpet until finally; they rested upon the gentle grooves of the icy metal below. Stumbling to a stance, Gabriella finally opened her eyes and placed the jewelry on the dresser once again…

…when she completely stopped breathing.

The world suddenly spun around her and it was not derived from the dizziness of the collision. Her heart thumped furiously, wildly in synchrony with the engorgement of her brown irises. Numbness spread through her fingers and swam up her arms. Lungs collapsed and knees wobbled as she stared at the glinting silver that glistened so delicately through the night. Gabriella's trembling hand reached out and ghosted over the necklace –she was much too terrified to actually _touch _it. The pain dissipated as her body became stone, petrified by the sight before her.

The last image Gabriella remembered of Troy Bolton's bedroom that evening was the elegant cursive that spelled out a single name that would haunt her for all of eternity:

_Emily_.


	15. Minute Fifteen

**A/N: I'm sorry for the wait, again. I'm sensing a theme here.**

**Oh, and I'd probably thank who ever invented youtube. If not for them, this chapter would be lost in a file on my old computer and I probably would have given up because it's one of the most important chapters of this story. It's not very exciting, but there's a lot of compact information. So thank you youtube gods for showing me how to retrieve deleted files, I owe you big time.**

**Your response is incredible, like REALLY incredible. Thank you for still sticking with this story and just being awesome in general. I'm glad you're still interested. There's no one blowing up or breaking hearts, but I'm really happy you guys are enjoying this. The feedback is wonderful, so thank you again. I hope you like this chapter.**

* * *

"Emily?"

Gabriella nodded, the hum of the copiers whirled around like the tornado that circulated though her head. Her fingers rotated evenly at her temples as she pushed back her coiling hair in the process. Below the shaky eyeliner job, which was worthy of a twelve year old, were purple bruises left over from the raging battle of sleep the past two evenings. Eyes black and unfocused, she stared blankly at the way the copy machine spit replicated picture after replicated picture out in a perfectly timed cycle. Apart from the two, the room was completely emptied which amplified the eeriness she had been experiencing as of the late. She sighed with exhaustion and turned to the only other occupant in the room, "That's what it said."

Jason's eyes bugged with a slight disbelief –as though it was a scandal of intensity had just been revealed. He unthreaded the top button of his gray over-shirt just before carefully reaching for the replicated photos, "Wow," he mumbled slowly, "We have a name."

Biting her lip, Gabriella squinted at him, "We have a name." She confirmed in a whisper.

Ever since she stumbled upon the necklace Saturday night, Gabriella's mind had been switched to a tunnel vision of hypotheses and inquisitions. She had returned to Troy's arms in a daze, cuddling in his chest and avoided his questions of her wellbeing. Although she pained a façade of normalcy, she was consumed with those five letters that spelled out her name. So many questions were to be asked, but she could not voice them that evening. Eventually, Troy detangled himself and guided her to the door. He swiftly kissed her forehead and she hugged him much too long. The rest of her weekend consisted of obsessing over her findings –which bled into her Monday morning like a hangover that Jason quickly noticed within minutes of arrival.

Jason swept around to be sure that his camera was still strapped to his neck before he finally motioned towards the door. Surprised she actually was conscious enough to understand his incentives; she silently followed him towards the other writers. She wasn't quite in a zombie state, but it wasn't hard to pinpoint the reason for her oblivious behavior was due to her lack of sleep.

"So do you know who she is?" He asked seriously -for once his bemused nature seemed to be tamed due to the situation.

Her cascading hair flipped from side to side as she shook her head, "I wasn't about to ask him after he told me about Alicia." Gabriella softly replied as her eyes surveyed the easy pace of the newsroom. She watched as a chubby man slurred the beige phone just before passing Rebecca's desk to see that she was having a low and intense conversation with another bored co-worker. Gabriella would have bet she was discussing how the head maintenance was caught screwing more than a new bolt in the bathroom.

The overcast clouds filtered through the windows as she passed the dreary New York skyline to plot down at her desk. Immediately, her hands ran down the side of her flushed cheeks and looked back to see Jason had joined his rightful place beside her.

He sent her a warm smile before rubbing her shoulders evenly, "Do you have any theories?

"Loads." Gabriella mumbled without hesitation.

Jason swung his legs onto the desk, not hesitant in who might see, and placed his hands behind his head like a cliché detective awaiting his damsel in distress, "Lay them on me."

Twisting her fingers together, Gabriella finally met his stare and nodded in encouragement to herself, to begin. Taking a shaky breath, her voice sounded foreign and much too high, "It could be a sister. All I know is that he's an only child and his parents are still together. She could have been sick or something."

He frowned, apparently just as unconvinced of that theory as she was. It was fairly unlikely that the rest of the gang would not have heard of this information –for there would be no reason to hide it. However, Gabriella _liked _to think this was the cause. It ruled out the other theories that seemed to be much more painful than the relative. It seemed highly unlikely, for there would be no apparent reason for him to screw Alicia senseless, but it was not a far fetched possibility.

"Um, right. What's the next one?" Jason asked, not hiding his disbelief at all.

Gabriella's gaze fixated on her hands as she shrugged, "An ex-girlfriend."

She let the words float around the two before they absorbed through. Gabriella had done her best to stay positive of this though, but it scared her. If indeed Troy's girlfriend had died from an overdose, car accident, fire, hypothermia, terrorist attack, exedra… then would he ever really get over her? Maria, Gabriella's mother, had never been able to find love after her father passed away. Would Troy be able to move on? It would make sense that Troy would have a "wound" and Alicia could have acted as a Band-Aid to fill the void. But would he really sleep with someone else if he loved his ex so much?

Obviously, Jason noticed the way Gabriella was slightly upset about this and diverted the conversation again, "Any others?"

A lump rose in her throat at what was circling through her head. Her eyes finally met his and she barely uttered the words, "His daughter."

Immediately, Jason's eyes widened, "Troy? With a kid?" He asked with disbelief. Swallowing thickly, Gabriella tried not to imagine Troy abandoning the mother if the child passed. She didn't like this scenario, but it was more probable than a dead sister.

"You never know." Gabriella silently replied.

Jason shook his head at her sudden distressed behavior. Unable to pass up the opportunity to take her mind off of the thought, he grinned mockingly, "I think Emily is the girl he murdered."

Eyes furrowed and deadly, Gabriella reached the short distance between them and shoved his shoulder with much more force then intended. Unfortunately, Jason was well built, so her efforts were proven pointless when he barely flinched, "Troy didn't kill anyone."

"You don't know that," Jason pointed out, which only earned more daggers, "there's a way to find out though."

He was right; she didn't know where or not Troy was some lunatic in his previous life. Her gaze shifted towards the computer screen and lingered momentarily at the icon that would bring her to the World Wide Web. Fingers twitching with anticipation, she glanced at her best friend and chewed nervously on her bottom lip. The answers were there, waiting for her to uncover. Previously, she hadn't felt she had a basis to search his name. Now, with the knowledge of this mystery girl, the need was surging through her.

"I feel guilty." Gabriella confessed as her head dropped to allow her dark hair to act as a veil over her cheeks. Achingly, her hand longed to open the search engine. However, guilt was gurgling in her stomach. Troy had given her every right to uncover his story by any mean possible, but the internet felt as though she was cheating. Besides, the chances that any useful information posted were slim. Certainly all she would find were his basketball records in the state game.

Suddenly, her eyes engorged in realization. _His basketball records_.

"Look," Jason started, his face bright and persuading, "Troy wants you to it on your own, right?"

Gabriella nodded stiffly, "Yes…"

"Well, he never said how you find it!" He exclaimed, just as eager for answers as she was. Well, maybe not _quite _as eager, "Just do it. I know how much you want to."

Gnawing on her bottom lip, Gabriella turned back to the monitor. Cautiously, she maneuvered the mouse until the tiny white arrow pressed upon the icon to the internet. She practically jumped as the familiar screen popped before her. With an encouraging nod from Jason, her fingers quickly navigated to the Google homepage. Fearfully, she stared with blankness at the access to her answers.

Shakily, she sucked in a chilly breath before muttering, "Okay, here we go…"

Slowly, as though the words would jump back and bite her neck off, she typed his name in the textbox. Her eyes lingered on the purity his name momentarily produced. The innocence that it carried –she was just about to taint it. Breathing through her nose one last time, Gabriella pressed "enter".

Her eyes frantically scanned the screen: Results **1** - **10** of about **622,000** for **Troy Bolton**. (**0.14** seconds).

"Holy shit." Jason whispered in awe. Gabriella didn't hear him. The rest of the world seemed completely obliterated except for the words written before her.

The first link was to the UCLA website. After clicking upon it, she was revealed to a profile page of a past year decked in blue and gold lettering. Greeted with a picture that was both all too familiar and so very foreign, Gabriella hungrily scrolled to read the biography. It was most definitely him –his sapphire irises were twinkling like stars and his hair was the same chestnut shade. However, the normally spiked do was swept over his forehead. His grin differed too – it appeared so much cockier, so much more immature and childish.

"Scroll down." He ordered, ignoring a phone call that shrilled behind him.

She obeyed his request –their eyes widened at the chunky, multilayered paragraphs of statistics. Each gave an overview of his career as a player. Most of the statements were over her head, but Jason seemed to be entranced with the praise that was given. His eyes were shining with illumination. Gabriella nervously toyed with her fingers, "What does this mean?" She asked, trembling.

Jason was silent for a long moment. Gabriella was forced to listen to the quiet chatter of the work place, along with the careful steps towards the alleyways of the desks. Impatiently, she began to tap on her legs in order to release some of the tension that began to build up within her.

Finally, Jason spoke evenly, "Why the hell didn't I see it before?"

Gabriella's eyes furrowed with frustration, "What? See what before? What are you talking about?"

"Troy was a rising player. I _knew_ I recognized him somewhere!" he triumphantly smirked, though it only made Gabriella crossed her arms in a pout that he wasn't sharing the information with her. Glancing to see her anger, Jason rolled his eyes and began to explain, "Troy used to be on the Bruins, he was one of their top players. I used to watch them all the time in college. That's why I thought I knew who he was."

The wheels in her head started to crank slowly, but surely. The lights in Gabriella's eyes glossed once again as she began to piece the information together, "Which would explain why I had no idea who he was."

Jason nodded excitedly, "He was the shit too from the looks of it."

"Go back," Gabriella ordered, "I wanna read more."

The other articles were sprinkles of The Los Angeles Times and ESPN, swooning over his elite skills. Gabriella didn't know much about basketball, but she knew enough to collect how great of a player he was. She scanned over predictions of which team would draft him into the NBA –which coach would be able to collect him fast enough. Every so often, Jason would chuckle in reminiscence or point out a game that he had watched and could recall. It entranced her; however, her mind began to question what happened to this star status. Articles slowly began to pop up of Troy's resignation at the end of his sophomore year. Plenty of reporters, and fans, were perplexed by his sudden halt. Gabriella could feel the tinge of disappointment herself.

"I don't get it," she finally voiced after the fifth analysis of his departure, "if he was so good, then why'd he quit?"

"It doesn't say," Jason responded with his eyes trained on the screen, "it had to have been big though… all his interviews were set on the NBA."

Rubbing her forehead in perplexity, she squeezed her eyes shut, "Maybe that's when Emily got sick."

He shook his head, his black hair flying with defiance, "No. If his sister would have been sick, he would have explained why. The only explanation his coach had been "personal reasons", which means it's something that wouldn't make him look good."

Gabriella frowned, not satisfied with the way she was shot down, "Okay then."

"Maybe this was when his druggie girlfriend started getting in the shit." Jason suggested, though it went unheard by Gabriella.

"Troy's told me he'd never do drugs, nor associate with people who do so…" She confessed, remembering the story that Taylor told of not being sure if he was high after discovering someone had died. Troy seemed to have assured her that he was clean.

Her eyes suddenly stared distantly into space, as though the back of one of the other journalist's bald head would reveal the answer. The scenario circled through her head almost violently. She bit down on her lip and tasted a coppery substance of blood in her mouth. Slowly piecing together the signs, she turned to her best friend with a solemn expression, "What?" He questioned with concern.

"She must have died just before he turned in his jersey."

Jason hesitated, "The media would have jumped on it."

"They never once mentioned if he was taken or not. What if they didn't know?" Gabriella pondered out loud, "do you hear about any college player's personal life?"

"No, but I don't think that's why. They would have found out if the girl he loved died." Jason rebutted, convincingly.

"The season was over by then," Gabriella reminded him with her pointer finger, "he wasn't in the limelight at that time."

"I feel like we're missing something, search Emily's name with him," Jason nodded towards the buzzing screen and glanced at the clock, "but hurry, Frank will be making his rounds soon."

She followed his request, typing the five letter name with his as well. After timidly pressing the enter button, Gabriella was disappointed to meet student articles and blogs at UCLA of swoons over this, and she quote, "sex on a stick" point guard. Doubting that a girlfriend of Troy's would pretend to be an overly hyper 16 year old who posted how she thought she looked hot in his uniform along with many others, she found these a waste of her time. As she flipped through other random articles of people named Troy and Emily's fiftieth anniversary in Colorado, a murder in Detroit, and a thirteen year old's myspace in London, she realized that there was no point to this. She momentarily got excited when she noted a prostate named Emily was arrested by an Officer Troy in San Diego, until she realized that the article was posted two weeks ago. Troy moved to New York four years ago.

Exhausted, Gabriella cracked her back and hopelessly flung buck into the chair, "I don't see anything."

Jason rubbed his eyes before looking at her with sympathy once again, "You did good, alright? Don't beat yourself up." He glanced over his shoulder briefly to see that a dark figure lumbered in the distance.

"I know, I just thought that I'd actually get somewhere." She sighed sadly just as Jason rose from his spot.

"You did, alright?" he promised before ruffling her black hair. Normally, Gabriella would have swatted him away, but in her disappointment, she just continued to stare distantly at the giant picture of the man she was so infatuated with driving for a lay up, "You know why everyone knows him."

"You're wrong," Gabriella shook her head and looked up to see the contrast of his dark hair against the gray walls and felt the settling feeling of defeat.

"How am I wrong?" Jason questioned.

"Because," she started while staring into the deep smirk of Troy's nineteen year old face, "it doesn't mean anything if I don't know why."

* * *

The rest of her day hadn't improved until five o'clock that evening.

The coffee shop was slow –lingering college students filtered in and out of the doors, but the workers were now lax to match the mellow mood that hung in the atmosphere. Due to the approaching fall nights, the setting sun already filtered through the blinds of the windows. The air was much warmer than normal, almost blaming with the silence of the coffee grinders. Despite the low conversations on the couches and chairs by the six friends, all appeared to be silent as the rest of the occupants sipped their afternoon beans.

Gabriella felt as thought he situation was bittersweet. Her laptop was humming softly in her lap almost awkwardly, for her legs were folded to the side. She was cuddled into a thermal chest with arms circled around her, absentmindedly doodling ovals with his fingernails upon her stomach. Across from her were a bored Chad and Taylor, who was trying to explain to him the importance of actually not failing out of college. Zeke and Sharpay were on the other end of the couch, glancing through a wedding magazine, which apparently made his normally chocolate skin appear about as white as the dresses Sharpay was pointing to. Jason, who was anything but a seventh wheel, was flirting a hurricane in the corner with the unoccupied Kelsi.

She cherished the moments with Troy –there was no denying the way tingles were running up and down her spine with his gentle caresses. However, her fingers itched in longing to have his absence in order to run a search of an idea she hadn't thought of while hunting earlier that day. It hasn't come to her until she was nestled into his arms, but now her mind was reeling in a mess of "what if"s that wouldn't quite leave. Her truth needed to be stimulated.

"My arms hurt." Troy mumbled into the mess of her hair, pressing his lips to the strands while shifting the book in his lap.

Her eyes cast upwards to see him smiling softly down upon her. She grinned back, though her gaze darted across his face as though the past would stream from his nose, his ears, or his lips. Swallowing, she attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but he tightened his muscles in rebellion, "I can move."

"It's not you," he promised, "it's the damn physiology book."

Gabriella giggled, though the burn of her unused laptop resting over her skinny jeans was not comfortable either, "That's what you get for trying to be all manly and doctor-y."

His chestnut eyebrows rose in amusement, "Doctor-y?"

Smacking his chest, she rolled her eyes and shook her head, "Shut up."

Their flirtation had always been easy, for they were friends before any romantic interests began to blossom. It felt so natural that sometimes Gabriella merely forgot that Troy was doing his best friend a little more than two months ago, or that they hadn't really kissed yet. It didn't bother her, but she couldn't deny it was in moments like these –when she was twisted oh so sweetly around him – that she wished she could roll up and peck his lips.

The sound of giggles interrupted her fantasy and she slowly cranked her neck around to see Jason and Kelsi pushing each other playfully. He was arched over the counter as she was coiled back with a blush painted on her cheeks, "Would you look at that…" Troy murmured before squeezing her waist tighter.

Gabriella was once again reminded that there were other people in the room when she heard a rude cough develop from across the way. Glancing over, she caught sight of Chad and Taylor rising from their spots, looking towards their little world. Taylor's expression was hopeful, Chad's was bemused.

"Hoops, you gotta get going. You've got practice in like an hour." He reminded, the afro on his head pulled tight into a ponytail and the scruff on his chin grown to a goatee.

"Damn it," Troy groaned and cranked around to view the wooden clock decorating the wall, "I guess I should go. We do have a game on Friday." He grinned cheekily down at her.

All on their date the other night, Troy had talked nonstop about the first basketball game The Warriors would be playing that coming weekend. He had not-so-subtly hinted that he wished for Gabriella to attend. She felt as though she was once again in high school, where the basketball star wished for the girl to wear his jersey and support his team. It mate her blush, in a positive way, for it meant that he really wanted her to be in one of the most vulnerable places, in a basketball court.

Chocolate eyes rolling, Gabriella waved her hand in dismissal, "Yes Troy, I know. Seven thirty, Friday night, Warriors gym. You'll even pay for my cab."

Sharpay's head snapped up, "I wanna go!" She whined.

Without taking his eyes off Gabriella, Troy snorted, "No one asked you."

Her lip caught between her teeth as she tried to giggle at the now offended look that cast on the blonde's face. He beamed that million dollar smile at Gabriella again before leaning towards her, toying with her fingers oh-so-delicately, "Think about it, please."

"I'll do what I can." She replied and nodded gently.

Troy closed the distance between them and kissed her forehead with fire –an embrace Gabriella craved south on her face. Slowly, he rose just after brushing the back of his fingers down her cheek, "I'll call you later." With a quick wave, he met Chad and Taylor, who were apparently walking him out. Gabriella watched as he lethargically moved across the cozy hues of the coffee shop, taunting her with his slug-like behavior.

As soon as the glass door clasped to a close, Gabriella thrust herself towards her laptop.

"Whoa, where the fire?" Zeke asked while glancing up from his own computer –apparently researching recipes.

Gabriella wasn't listening. Instead, her fingers were busy pounding away at the keys as though they were the code to keep from a bomb exploding. Pulling the search engine of choice once again, Google to be exact, she furiously typed Troy's name again, accompanied with the name of his deceased -whatever she was- only adding another word that altered the search drastically.

_Obituary_

Why she hadn't thought to include a death notice in her discovering previously was beyond her. Quite possibly, she hadn't completely thought with all of her senses when immediately given the information of a past behind him. But her mind had calmed, and she was once again opened to the possibility that maybe she would be revealed to information.

"She's probably going to change her facebook and tell everyone she has a fucking date on Friday." Sharpay bitterly spat, scooting away from Zeke's arms and silently squeezed her eyes to read over Gabriella's shoulder. The journalist, however, was in a tunnel vision –she didn't realize there was anyone lingering around.

Heart thumping wildly, Gabriella pressed "enter" and watched as the results for her hunt unveiled themselves. Her eyes widened in disbelief at the very first link that sat before her.

_Emily Lewis Death Notice: Emily Lewis's Obituary by…_

What caught her attention was the preview box looming beneath it, so perfectly written it almost appeared deadly the way it sliced against the white background: _May 14… Offer tributes/condolences to Emily Lewis, send flowers… Loving fiancée to Troy Bolton..._

Gabriella gulped and froze in terror.

_Fiancée_?!

Her heart stopped beating. She knew that it was something serious, obviously with the way he was so secretive and how bound he kept to the silence. But _fiancée_? Emily was due to marry him? How did the press not get a hold of this? Why was he getting _married _at age nineteen? Most importantly though, why was she now buried beneath the ground? Gabriella's heart was thumping against her chest so violently it caused her hands to tremble wildly.

"How do you know about Emily?"

Panicked, Gabriella became petrified once again. The voice that interrupted her cycling head was sharp, deadly like the sound of glace slicing against skin. Her blood ran cold, icy in her veins. It wasn't as though she was busted for something minor; this was as though the police was breathing down her neck. Cells inside her body were frozen, eyes petrified with terror. She couldn't feel her legs, and it took all the effort in the world to turn and meet the painful, black eyes of Sharpay Evans.

She sat in her yellow shirt with her brow narrowed in accusations. The manicured nails were like claws as they tapped against her leg –ready to strike. Gabriella could hear her own breath rattle against her ribs. There was a way to erase the evidence, she would. But there it sat on her computer, like a murder scene uncovered.

"I…um…"

"Who told you?" Sharpay snapped, the normal shill of her voice an octave lower in anger.

Gabriella didn't stutter, nor did she allow the dizziness of the revelations provide a weakness, "No one."

She rolled her eyes, unconvinced, "Bullshit Montez."

"I swear Sharpay," Gabriella honestly attempted to convince her, but the threatening witch-like appearance of Sharpay's pointed nose was so furious, so ravenous, that Gabriella was almost fearful that she was going to suddenly whip a wand out and turn her into a toad. The shadows beneath her eyes turned purple with rage. She was fucked now, "I found it on my own…"

Sharpay cackled, throwing her head back with anything but amusement and allowed her golden mane to spill out before her, "How the _hell _would you randomly pick some bitch's name? WHO TOLD YOU?!"

By now she had caught the attention of the rest of the java drinkers. Nervously, Gabriella's eyes darted around, searching madly for an escape, "He said he wanted me to figure it…"

"Did he tell you?! That fucker…" Sharpay growled -her voice a decimal quieter than the shriek.

"No he…" Wait. What was the actress having a heart attack over? Gabriella raised a black eyebrow skeptically. She was fearful because she thought Sharpay would be angry about the mystery she was uncovering, but was this the truth? The stage-star seemed more upset with Troy than Gabriella herself. Perplexity cast over the smooth edges of her olive face as she slowly opened her mouth to speak, "Sharpay, Troy never…"

"What, did you show him your tits for him to tell you? Ugh, he makes me fucking PROMISE to keep my mouth shut. Do you know how many times I've wanted to tell Zeke…?"

"Sharpay!" Gabriella finally halted the rant by gripped her thin shoulders desperately. Their eyes locked on each other as her tone came out slowly, carefully, "Troy. Did. Not. Tell. Me."

Sharpay glared, "Then how did you find out?"

She sighed, not wanting to go into the whole Troy-wants-me-to-find-it-on-my-own-because-he's-a-fucking-sick-and-torturous-person explanation, so she settled on threading her skinny fingers through her hair, "Look, it doesn't matter okay? Troy never told me, I found out on my own whether you believe me or not."

She pouted into the couch, scowling with hatred as she crossed her boney arms, "You've known him for what, two weeks? I knew him for three years without him saying anything."

Gabriella decided now was not a good time to tell her she had been here for over two months, "How'd you find out about her?"

The rest of the coffee shop –though occasionally sending awkward glances –had seemed to ignore him once again, "He was fucking drunk in his apartment and the douche bag got into an argument in the bathroom with the bitch," Gabriella automatically assumed she meant Alicia, "and I needed to piss. He said something like '_Don't even bring Emily up_'. Or whatever. So I demanded in there for him to tell me who she was." Her voice dropped when she said his ex's name.

Her heart was racing once again, and she fumbled with her fingers while blind to the wary looks Jason was sending her from across the way. Zeke had apparently toned out his girlfriend –mostly likely used to these outbursts, so he wasn't embarrassed any longer. Gabriella swallowed the grapefruit that welded in her throat and finally found her quivering voice, "How did… how did she die?"

Despite large the progress she made in the history of Troy Bolton, her luck ran short when Sharpay coldly shrugged her shoulders, "Who the fuck knows. Why don't you ask him, since he seems to tell you everything?"

Gabriella sighed; if only she knew.


	16. Minute Sixteen

**A/N: The response lately for this story has been astounding. I'm incredibly thankful for all of you sticking with me while I had a rough patch. This story is becoming much more enjoyable to write again, so thank you for your support and still having faith in my writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Lately a lot has been coming at you, but hopefully you'll see why soon. Thanks so much for the amazing reviews and just reading in general.**

* * *

Troy could vividly remember what the silence felt like.

He was seated on a bench in a forest of alternating red and black lockers. Feet tapping impatiently, his bright eyes were trained on the mirror before him, sending back a reflection of himself he didn't quite recognize. The tightening scarlet tie around his neck, the spike of his hair off his forehead, the clipboard that rested beside him: all these were reminders of what he _shouldn't _have been. Instead, he should have been nodding his head to his pump-up song flooding his ear buds just as his players were a few aisles over.

The stillness of the air was quiet like a cobra about to strike. It slithered over the tiled floors of the locker room and twisted around the players' jiggling legs, only to squeeze between their abdomens. In the air, it filled the tight spaces in a hazy poison, straight out of a horror film. Troy knew this sensation; it was the self-torment of anticipation, of nerves.

Troy met his own stare into the mirror, watching the reflection as if a murderer was due to linger over his shoulder with a knife. He scrutinized himself, flexing his white button up only to find his bulging muscles appeared weak in the shine back. The cyan orbs gazing were haunted, aged with tragedy and kissed with the grim reaper. To him, they appeared to be the color of the splattering rain that night –a perfect, crystal blue before it was tainted pink with her blood.

Sighing, he knew now wasn't the time to fantasize about the future Emily had destroyed in a fiery wake. He wasn't trying to feel sorry for himself, but after being so close to victory and his goal, the attachment he had to said visions still floated into his thoughts. But he needed to be focused on his xs and os instead of what could have been. Too much was at stake for sorrow. The team needed a leader, the school wanted a victory and Gabriella had hinted that she would be making an appearance if she could find a subway that would lead her to Brooklyn. He couldn't let any of them down.

Glancing at his watch, Troy finally rose from the bench and listen to the faint mumbles that sounded from where the team was gathered. Once more, he straightened his tie and collected the clipboard, slowly making echoing footsteps as he walked through the small locker-room. Around him, memories of snapping towels and boasting to teammates about scoring more than a three pointer enclosed him, but he pushed aside his glory days with strength.

He leaned against the wall when he saw them –legs trembling and eyes focused blankly upon the floor. He caught a look towards Leo with his box-cut "C" stamped to his chest and watched as the Hispanic's hands trailed almost soothingly over the surface of a spare basketball in his hand.

"Who died?" Troy asked and watched the player's heads snap up, ignoring the irony of the question.

The two assistant coaches lingered in the corner, far more detached from the team than Troy was. He was grinning a cocky smile that rarely shown itself any longer, smirking at the confusion upon the faces of his team, "It's nerves, Coach." A junior confessed with his barely-there muscles trembling in the oncoming minutes of his very first varsity game.

"Why?" Troy asked. When no one answered, Troy shot Leo a wicked smirk which the senior return, except much more wobbly, "Because you're afraid? Of what?"

Someone beside him shrugged, "First game?"

He looked around again, watching as the adrenaline suddenly started to stir within the veins of the Warriors. Slowly, each guy straightened and popped their iPods out of their ears, finding motivation from a much more influential source. "Don't be afraid of anyone. You guys have put hours in over the summer and these past few weeks." he was sure to make eye contact with every single player scattered along the benches, "This first game? Don't worry about it. Whatever happens is just an indicator of what we need to work on."

Someone swallowed against the swelling sensations that were running through them. "What if…" The younger player began to rebut.

"What if nothing. This is your court, your fans, your game. Go out, have fun, and kick some ass, alright?"

It was silent for a long moment, though the expressions had quickly changed from when he first walked to them. There was a direction –a brotherly bond that floated around them and hugged tightly to their skins. Their cheeks burned red with desire, a true _need _to fulfill Troy's prophecy swam beneath their legs, through their arms, and into their hearts.

Leo grinned and stood proud. His muscles began to swell with anticipation and his tanned face beamed with a purpose, "You got it Coach."

With that, the excitement in the room escaladed to almost balming elevations. He caught a smirk with the assistant coaches who watched eagerly as the boys jumped from their seats and began to leap around as though they had just been given drugs to awaken them. Glancing at Leo patting his chest one last time, Troy turned around and walked towards the entrance of the locker room, "Garcia! Lead them in something!" He called back before disappearing from the sight of the players, letting them have the glory moment he never would be able to experience again.

"WHO ARE WE?!" The sound of the chant rushed through Troy's ears. His bright eyes momentarily fluttered closed and he was stripped back to a time when he stood in a scarlet uniform: Chad's bouncing afro was blocking his view as his best friend screamed in the Wildcat locker room. The screams that was almost as real as the chanting players behind.

"WARRIORS!"

"Wildcats." Troy whispered, once he was alone, in a shaky tone choked around his throat at his failure, "Getcha head in the game."

* * *

"Ugh, you fucking douche bag!" An annoying screech in front of her pierced her ears. "It's raining _outside_, not on my head you prick!"

"Well sor_ry_," A blonde crossed his arms in an attempt to be intimidating, yet his build was anything but threatening and the frohawk was so chunky it appeared as though it was created by Elmer's glue. Flapping his hood with no other purpose but to annoy the slim brunette, he shrugged his skinny shoulders with an amused grin, "You'd like getting wet for the coach anyways."

This, of all the obnoxious bickering she had to endure through for the three minutes she had been waiting in line, was what made Gabriella's head snap up like it was loose on its hinges. The wait to pay for her stamp to get into the field house seemed all too long, especially amongst the bickering of the highs school students just a pace away. Luckily, she had managed to snag a statistics sheet from the front entrance and had engrossed herself in the player's names and positions to stall time. It was hard to imagine that such a short time ago, Gabriella had been one of these adolescences. The blissful time seemed decades away from now.

There had really been no fight within herself whether or not she was going to come. She knew she would, Troy had personally requested for her to be supporting him and refused to let Sharpay join in the fun. Feeling slightly drunk off excitement, Gabriella quickly found herself a cab after leaving the house in a pair of denim skinny jeans and a gray sweater. After getting lost –twice, in fact – she finally stumbled into the Warrior's high school.

"I do _not_. You're so fucking annoying." The brunette defended; however, there was a ruby blush tickling her cheeks that Gabriella knew only came from one person.

"He's just jealous that he has a six pack and Brian doesn't," her blonde-haired female friend slipped an arm through hers, both of which were completely covered in red and black ballet leotards. Apparently, school spirit here was similarly intense to her own back in California.

"Why the fuck would I be _jealous _of some twenty years old. It'd be illegal anyways." Brian, the boy with a green eyed monster stirring beneath his skin-tight wrestling uniform that revealed too much of his flapping package, spat back.

"Not in two months!" The girl snapped back. Gabriella laughed lowly at how stupid this girl was to think that Troy would take one step towards her.

"That's pathetic, Tessa." Brian grumbled, though he was still upset.

"Fuc…"

"Can I help you four?" The irritated sound of the woman at the entrance asked, actually it was more of a demand.

All catching glances at each other, they shook their decorated heads, "No." The four responded simultaneously before handing the older redhead their school identification cards. The woman shuffled through them and, once satisfied that they were students at the school, waved them through. Hurriedly, they sprinted into the gym and became lost in the noise that screamed from inside.

After handing her five dollars as an entrance fee, Gabriella passed through the gate of volunteered parents with a gentle smile that went ignored. Clearly, their concerns were far more focused on the teenagers and whether or not they were sneaking alcohol into the gymnasium. Almost immediately after stepping through the threshold of the multiple doors, she was slammed with a roar of battle cries that nearly knocked her off her feet.

The first thing she saw was a mixture of the red and black seat on the glossy bleachers. Warrior fans were on their feet in the section across from the parents, yelling chants of encouragement and degrades towards the opposing students dressed in blue and white. The glow of the green numbers off the scoreboard above matched the golden lights that shined onto the shiny court. As she stepped in her tan boots, a thunder of stomps rumbled the hardwood and vibrated through her ankles. School spirit seemed once of a kind.

Gabriella scanned the ballet-like synchronization of the uniformed players as they completed their warm up drills. Her heart skipped a beat when she stared past the boys and caught a flash of brunette hair shaking hands with the opposing coach, his white smile beaming. Careful not to slam into the other parents as she reveled in the way he chuckled a hundred feet away, Gabriella continued to watch his movements as if it was him who was making the baskets. Finally, she ripped her eyes from him and surveyed the stands for an open seat. Before she spotted one, however, a strong yet hesitant voice cut through the cheers like a knife.

"Gabriella."

She saw Alicia before she actually recognized who it truly was. Dressed in a black zip up that covered her dipping orange long sleeve, Alicia tentatively waved the journalist over with an uneasy smile. A choice was suddenly pressed upon her –sit with Troy's ex fuck buddy or sit by her lonesome.

She'd take her chances.

"I um… I didn't know you were gonna be here." Gabriella awkwardly said as she stepped over the others in the crowd. The lawyer was seated half way to the top of the pulled bleachers with her legs crossed and her purse stowed safely at her feet. She shrugged nonchalantly as Gabriella eased her butt down against the wood, leaving a large gap between them.

"I wouldn't miss his opener." Alicia mumbled, not quite bragging yet not innocent either.

_I bet you wouldn't. _Gabriella feigned a smile while her insides were roaring with protectiveness, "So you come to a lot of his games?"

Shrugging, Alicia turned her eyes back to the court to give Gabriella an opportunity to peel off her pea coat and tuck it under her butt. The boys on the court had now circled into their respective benches, receiving the final pep-talk from their appropriate coaches. She was slightly mystified with the intensity Troy held as he spoke unheard words, like a certain power that caused all to listen. Curiously, she wondered if the countless interviews he had post games on the Bruins had trained him to be so composed.

Before she had time to realize what was happening, a booming voice on the loudspeaker began to shoot off names of the players for the opposite team. As the Warrior student section turned their backs, Gabriella remembered fondly of standing in that front row herself to mock their rivals. With each player that passed, the crowd booed until their fifth starter jumped eagerly onto the court.

As the mood shifted when the Warriors were announced, Alicia leaned over pointing towards the seniors and juniors, "That's the Hammer. You can see where he gets his nickname from." She informed when directing to what looked like a twin to Shaquille O'Neill.

Gabriella black eyebrows rose in awe, "Is that even a student?" She asked incredulously.

"Apparently. The skinny one with the freckles is Josh Ericson, um… I don't know the blonde or the one with a sweatband. But the short one is Leo. He won't admit it, but he's Troy's favorite."

"He mentioned him." She couldn't help the defensive tone that leaked through her voice.

Alicia nodded, picking up on the bitterness of her voice, "He's a fantastic player. His ball handling skills are amazing." Just as she spoke, the ten teenagers leaped onto the hardwood and stepped to the center of the circle. After the ball was tipped into the Warrior's possession, the gymnasium trembled again in the wake of the student section –instigating the encouraging mood for the rest of the game.

"He is good." She mumbled under her breath as her eyes ping-ponged when the ball was thrown across the court. However, it seemed as though with each layup and rebound this Leo showed his skills off with perfection. The crowd approved and clapped wildly with each basket they scored. Gabriella found herself quickly joining in the fun, although her company wasn't exactly first class. Of course, she was being biased due to the whole screwing factor, but she also made an effort to laugh at the lawyer's witty jokes and make small talk throughout the first quarter.

The buzzer sounded, concluding the beginning section of the game, "You want like, popcorn or something?" Alicia asked stiffly.

Gabriella glanced down at the hardwood, noting how all the players were back in their huddles. Watching carefully, she noted the precision of Troy's orders and wondered exactly what the silkiness of his voice sounded like when he was on a mission. She imagined it was just as attractive as his normal, caressing tone, "Nah. I don't want to get attacked by the fans over there."

Alicia giggled, "I remember being that insane in high school."

"_You _were an obnoxious fan?" The incredulous tone of her voice was not easily hidden. She herself could recall the bizarre behavior of a teenager and screaming ravenously at the referees' blind fouls. It shocked her that someone so smooth and sharp as Alicia once hadn't given a rat's ass if she seemed out of control. Gabriella tried to imagine the hard bones of her face decorated with paint. The image came up blank.

Her muscular shoulders shrugged, "My high school boyfriend loved going to the games, even if he didn't play." There was a bitterness underlying in her statement. Naturally, Gabriella wished to press the matters further, but found herself at a loss for the appropriate words, "He'd always bet me if they won, he'd take me out to buy ice cream before going to the after party –where he'd treat me to vodka."

"And if they lost?"

Alicia turned away in silence, concentrating on the game and ignoring her question. Unfortunately, this only fueled Gabriella's hunger for information more. The urge to push the questions like the reporter she was lingered on her tongue, but somehow she managed to control herself and succumbed to the awkward stillness by watching the Warrior's leader once again.

"Troy's a pacer." Gabriella randomly announced to break the unease as she watched the coach shuffle his feet back and forth with a tight line of his mouth. It was a bit of an eye opener for her –she was used to seeing his shining smile. Due to adrenaline, he had yelled at the referees and angrily corrected the players when something went terribly wrong.

Alicia giggled, yet it sounded manlier to her, "What does that mean?"

"Watch him," she pointed to where he was retracing his steps and gripping the edges of his chestnut scalp, even if they were winning. There was something insanely sexy about watching him interact with his favorite game. She couldn't imagine how he would have been if he hadn't left the nets in college. Passion steamed with every point of his finger and every shout of his throat. It was quite beautiful, her in opinion, "he paces when he's nervous."

"I could have told you that ages ago. It's sort of annoying."

Awkwardly, Gabriella turned her head again so she was watching him. Slowly, a small smile curled on the left side of her cheek as she shook her head, "No," she disagreed, "I think it's sweet."

"Hmmm," Alicia mused, shifting uncomfortably in her wooden seat, "Let's go Warriors!" She yelled, nothing in comparison to the thunder across the court.

She watched the fluidity of the game –the way the plays were perfectly executed as though they could be found in the NCAA. It was soon very clear who the dominating team was, but their coach didn't appear to take this for granite. No matter if they were up by fourteen points, Troy still shouted and scolded as though they were down by fourteen instead. He took the matter seriously, pushing his team to their upmost potential. It was easy to see why he was hired for the position after a mere quarter and a half of one game.

Despite the occasional outburst of anger, the encouragement he gave them was incredible and far more superior. With every substitute, there was a high five and a brief grin, just to show that he cared. Occasionally, he would ruffle one of their heads teasingly and then be able to focus back on the seriousness of the game. It reminded Gabriella of when her father was alive. There was a playful nature that Jose always completed when he came home from a long day at work. The routine was to kiss Maria's cheek blissfully before swooping his only daughter into his awaiting arms, cooing "my baby"…

Her heart suddenly stopped thumping.

_My baby._

Baby.

How could she be so _stupid_?

Gabriella's doe eyes widened and numbness crept through her veins. Inside her ribcage, her heart rattled with fury –the only moving organ in her entire body. The rampaging sounds of the gym vanished and succumbed to her pulse beat. Flashes of black and scarlet clouded her vision, quickly mutating into an array of color and shine. She felt dizzy, pained by the obviousness of her epiphany that she almost felt faint. Every single conversation she had with the ex Bruin zipped through her mind like a spiraling jet engine. The feel in her hands and feel disappeared –for a brief moment, Gabriella turned catatonic.

Troy lived, breathed, ate, drank, and slept basketball. From start at a young age, he had been destined for greatness. Both Chad and Alicia had confirmed his elite skills. The internet had also opened her eyes to the potential he carried –reporters and recruiters began to hunt high and low for his star status. Basketball had meant everything to him. His entire world had been consumed with the orange sphere. And it suddenly dawned upon Gabriella that the only way he would have given it up was if he brought something else into the world.

Or rather, _someone_.

Every bit of information now lined perfectly with her theory. Troy had given up his potential at UCLA for unselfish reasons that had torn him at the seams. In her mind, she could imagine the faceless Emily knocking on his door at the end of the season with the news. She imagined that it had been easy for Troy to slip away –after announcing he would not be returning, the sea of reporters would have stopped calling by the time Emily's stomach started to swell.

And if her timing was correct, the same bump would have never seen life, for it would have ended the fateful date of May 14th when Emily herself died.

"Gabriella…? Are you o… Gabriella?!"

There was a distant voice that was clawing to bring her back to reality, but Gabriella was completely lost in her thoughts that it was unrecognizable. It wasn't until there was a sharp shake of her shoulders that she realized someone was frantically trying to get her attention.

"What?" Her mouth was hot with tar as she flung her curls around; waking up from whatever nightmare she had placed herself within.

"Gabriella! Are you alright?"

She blinked, and suddenly the world returned to her. The shouts upon the court seemed incredibly real, intense with fire and panged with the players' pads pushing the ball with their might. Heat beamed upon her as she sat beneath the burning lights –every inch of her felt smoldering. It wasn't until her vision cleared that she realized her breath was rasping. Alicia's hand squeezing her shoulder felt acidic, and Gabriella –once she had collected her nerve – glared at the contact point. Immediately, the lawyer released her and awkwardly cupped her hand into her lap in embarrassment.

"Wh…why.." Gabriella stammered, her tongue filling her entire mouth and felt like rubber, "I'm fine."

Alicia's eyebrows rose skeptically. Both were completely ignoring the game that raged from below, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

In a way, she had. The thought of the fetus and its fateful end made her sick. She was certain if she wasn't so proud, she would have raced away and vomited whatever had been in her stomach. Not only had his fiancée been snatched of life, but his baby as well. It suddenly became painfully obvious why Troy had searched for a need in Alicia. This was far more heartbreaking than Gabriella had ever imagined.

"I just…" she stuttered, speechless. Lifting her milky eyes to reach the hard, accusing rocks that belonged to Troy's best friend, Gabriella searched for some explanation for her bizarre behavior, "zoned out."

Alicia's mouth opened stupidly. Her eyes darted over the soft edges of Gabriella's cheeks, searching for an answer for her insanity, "You… zoned out?"

Gabriella, despite her trembling shoulders, did her best to shrug, "It happens to the best of us."

For a moment, she thought that Alicia was going to get up and move due to her psychotic episode. Instead, she shook her head and turned back to the game, only moving when she turned to stare at Gabriella skeptically again, "Are you sure you don't need me to get you something? You're whiter than me."

The question was meant to be a joke, but Gabriella found little funny with the curl of her stomach that set off both triumph and horror. She was all too silent while staring blindly at the court once again, her lungs still coming in short, yet quiet, gasps. No matter how excited she was to discover another piece of him, the thought of the child he could have fathered never seeing life curled at her intestines.

Once again, her mocha eyes burned as they lifted to take sight in the coach's paces again. There was a tiny, victorious smile that curled upon his face as he glanced up at the scoreboard, reveling in his soon-to-be win. Frowning, the pang in her gut grew at his perfection and pierced with pity. His baby, his career, his future wife had all poofed into oblivion.

The only question left unsolved now was _why _they were gone.

* * *

Alicia had developed three hypothesis of Gabriella Montez that night.

One was that Troy was fraternizing with an unstable, mentally imbalanced psycho-wad escapee who had managed to slip past the guards in her vivacious curves and button nose. For a few brief moment, she had become completely stilled. It had reminded Alicia of the motionless patients she occasionally stood behind in court. It was a classic case –the victim is triggered by stress and immediately goes into shock, then following in a catatonic state.

There was one specific case that Alicia remembered. It was two years prior, and she was sitting in as a student. The case was murder, the woman's husband had been held at the throat with an ax by her crazed ex boyfriend. The criminal had ordered her to strip off her clothes and lie naked among the hardwood flooring. After tying a noose around her current, and unconscious, husband's throat, he raped the wife and then spilled her lover's blood. This sent the woman into schizophrenia with a blank demeanor, never to speak again.

This theory was highly unlikely, however. Gabriella was intelligent and also responsive after Alicia had shaken some sense into her. Even if she would be potentially pursuing the man Alicia was head over heels with, Gabriella didn't exactly seem like the unstable type. In fact, she was quite the opposite. Even if she was not completely organized all the time, the writer seemed to have her head screwed tightly onto her shoulders. As much as Alicia secretly wanted her to be a nut job that picked her nose behind his back, it seemed that her luck ran short due to the extraordinary things the Latina had already accomplished in the little time she had been in New York.

Her second theory, which was much more probably than numero uno, was that Gabriella was indeed telling the truth. There had been plenty of moments in Alicia's lifetime when she had been sitting with a cereal spoon dangling from her mouth, or her nose buried into a law driven book that she had suddenly found herself completely consumed with heartbreaking memories. Due to terrorized expression on her face, Alicia assumed that a depressing rewind had lodged itself into her brain.

Specifically, Alicia vividly shuddered at the reminder of her first attempt to branch off from the unhealthy sexual relations with her best friend and find love in other places. She was still in California, just after Troy had escaped to New York and called her three times a day to be sure she still remembered him. His name was John –and he was a typical red blooded American with no defined personality other than he shuddered when he was nervous and held flaming red hair with a matching goatee.

They had been sitting in a sports bar, aimlessly watching the plasma screens that covered the walls like paper. The night was generic –their conversations were focused on the weather, the Dodgers and whether or not their professor would assign them a paper before finals. Alicia had been stirring the melting ice in her soda and flickering her emerald gaze up at him every so often. John grinned and had just about to reach over the cluttered table of buffalo wings and quesadillas to gather her hand, when a flash of a spinning basketball swooshed across the television screens.

Immediately, she disappeared from the present and found herself in a black room, with her arms tightly wound around Troy's shoulders. Tears were dripping down both of their faces and stained the black, depressing clothing that shimmied off their bodies. They were seated in the darkness of his apartment, the rest of the roommates had scattered after the funeral in order to give him privacy. His silky tie pressed up between the cups of her dress, igniting a sensation that tinged with guilt at her love of being so close to him in the darkest of times. Finally, after what had seemed like years, Alicia brought his chestnut shag around and pushed back his bangs –this allowed a full sight of the incredible cobalt irises that were stained pink. Less than a second later, Troy's lips furiously shoved against hers, just before he whispered, "_Look what she did to me_."

It was at that moment that Alicia rose from her spot at the table and apologized to John while she collected her purse and threw money on the table, leaving in a hustle and deciding she couldn't be without Troy any longer. This decision led to her packing boxes after the final semester of her sophomore year ended and shipped her life off to the great unknown beneath the Statue of Liberty.

Finally, there was one more idea that lodged itself into Alicia's mind that could potentially be an option for the questionable hesitation displayed in the gym. It was a long shot, a theory that was most likely false but could potentially be in the air. With the colors so bright and the screams so loud, one could get lost within themselves and concentrate on their emotions. Maybe Alicia was paranoid; maybe she was being possessive and idiotic. Or maybe Gabriella really had realized she had fallen in love with Troy Bolton. And maybe it scared her.

But there was one thing for certain: if Gabriella thought she had everything figured out, Alicia knew for certain she wouldn't know that nothing was black and white in Troy Bolton's past.


	17. Minute Seventeen

**A/N: I honestly don't know what to do anymore. I've tried being nice about it, I've tried being a bitch about it… but after so many times of seeing your work copied, it takes a toll. I'm exhausted, quite honestly. I don't get why people feel the need to copy word for word something I've worked on. But I'm sick of fighting a battle I can't win. Thank you to everyone who has, once again, supported me through this. Just please, if you do any justice, just fwrite your own goddamn work. I play with these characters too long for you to just prove how well you can press the paste button. Honestly, as I've said numerous times before, a monkey could do it. Write your own work.**

**In other news, I'm sorry for the awkward time of an update, but I'm leaving for the airport like… now and I didn't want to wait more than two weeks between posts. I REALLY hope you like this chapter, I certainly do. Thanks for reading and reviewing as always – I love hearing your theories. Enjoy and pray with me that Zac and Vanessa will magically decide to go to Sin City a day early… a girl can dream. **

* * *

Troy Bolton was a born and bred American male – he loved food. Steak, Chinese, or brownies, there was very little he disliked. The friends around him exposed him to different tastes and desires. While still in high school, he and Chad would dirty their faces with oozing pizza sauce and stretching cheese daily. Zeke, obviously, brought recipes back to the apartments to test and try; Troy would always be the first volunteer to be his official critic. Due to Alicia's large heritage, he found himself twirling forks within the hairs of delicate noodles drenched with multihued sauces and flavors on the nights of threatening exams or papers.

In contrast, his fiancé had had a sweet tooth for the gentle glide of frozen custard down her throat. After bustling through cities, Troy would return to her grinning cheeks and lace their fingers together, frolicking as they exchanged longing kisses and careful squeezes while making their way to the parlor just off of campus. It was tradition –she would indulge in mint and he would drown in the chocolate that dribbled down his face. After they had each sampled each others, their preference would change when they returned to Troy's shared apartment and found more enjoyment in licking the flesh on their bodies rather than the dessert.

However, there were few things that tasted as sweet as victory in Troy Bolton's mouth.

The locker room was buzzing with energy and reeked of sweat as Troy pressed his shoulder against a distant wall, blind to his player's activities but not deaf. Smiles had decorated their faces and the scarlet hues of the paint shined an artificial glow from their cheeks when they came sprinting in after the final buzzer of the game sounded. A surge of pride swelled within his chest while watching the exchanges of high fives and back clasps. He himself could feel his heart pound unevenly at the excitement and accomplishment. Leaning up against the gated office, a happiness that could only be found within the circumference of an orange sphere spread evenly through his veins.

"Dude, that three pointer in the third quarter… I didn't think you had it in you!"

"Fuck… eleven for twelve? Garcia… you were on _fire_."

"Who stole my pants?!"

Chuckling, Troy uncrossed his legs and stood straight. Free of the tie that had previously chocked his neck, he unlatched the top two buttons on his dress shirt to reveal the white cotton resting above his golden skin. The other two assistant coaches were chatting happily about the victory in the opposite corner, occasionally scolding the boys for their foul, and exuberated, language that echoed off the tiled walls. Troy, however, remained back whilst they stripped from their uniforms and reveled in the intoxication of triumph.

It was Leo who first surfaced from the crowd, his black hair sticking haphazardly off his head and a goofy grin that covered the soft edges of his cheeks. For a brief moment, they just remained motionless and kept their eye contact locked with the other. There was an illumination in his darkened irises that held Troy so captivated and pleased. It wasn't until the oldest finally nodded and spoke with truth and pride that either made a motion, "You played a great game Garcia."

Cockily, Leo curled his lips in a way that Troy might have eight years before, "Thanks Coach."

There was so much Troy could have said to the player. He could have cautioned not to make poor choices and to hold onto this victory as long as he could, because another may never come around. It took all his energy not to tell him how fantastic his ball handling skills were and if he kept practicing his outside shots, colleges would be swarming. But Troy remained silent, knowing that whatever wave Leo was destined to ride would swell. For tonight, he was allowed to just enjoy the exhilarated feeling that such a win could brew.

"Yo! Garcia!" A thundering voice rattled the hanging showers from across the room. Cranking both of their heads around, the sight of The Hammer beckoning the point guard over blinded him from the rest of the team crowded around. However, the sound of their cries and cheers were no longer unnoticed. The team was clad in their black and scarlet sweats and eagerly summoned their captain for release. Leo glanced helplessly up at his mentor, proving that he did indeed wish to have a conversation.

Troy waved his hand in dismissal and jerked his head to the side, "Get out of here. Keep an eye on them alright?" He reminded of the "no alcohol" rule that was enforced in season.

"You got it, Coach."

With that, Leo spun around and snatched his bag yet again. Watching as he quickly hurried to catch up; Troy let out a low sigh and turned in the direction of his dropped clipboard. The obnoxious chatter faded with their footsteps and he soon found himself in solitude once again. Slightly antsy and eager to leave, he quickly collected his scattered materials and shoved them into his bag. Quickly, he glanced around one more time to be certain nothing was left behind and began his slow walk towards the doors leading back to the gymnasium.

The basketball court, which had been flooded with spectators just twenty minutes before, only contained tiny threads of occupants. Snickering as he passed, Troy caught embraces from the players' selective girlfriends. He resisted the temptation to call out to Leo as his arms wrapped around a pretty girl with flowing blond hair.

This sight of embrace suddenly awoke Troy's emotions. In the heat of the game, he had tuned himself out towards all other distractions that might interfere with his coaching style. However, now that he was released from his duties, his heart began to jack rabbit against his chest in the memory of his persistence that previous week. Almost desperately, his vivid eyes began to survey over each and every face, hunting for the gaze that would melt his organs.

"Nice game, Coach."

Halting in his tracks, Troy whirled around with his sapphire orbs bugged and his stomach flipped. Standing side by side was like staring into some twisted Alice and Wonderland fantasy –both Alicia and Gabriella lingered inches apart awkwardly. His best friend had her sturdy arms tucked tightly into the pockets of her dark zip up while the object of his affection pressed her crossed arms tightly to her revealing chest through the cashmere sweater that dipped on her slender frame. Troy felt a ball as large as one of his basketballs weld into the depths of his throat at the sight of her, despite that she was avoiding meeting his stare.

"Hey, you guys came!" Troy scratched the back of his short cropped hair, attempting to ignore the thick air that hung around the threesome. However, he couldn't seem to avert his attention from the beauty of simplicity that excluded from the journalist. To the common eye, apart from her striking allure she had been born with, there was nothing that jumped about her appearance. Yet, on that night, under the lights of his personal heaven, Troy had never seen a woman resemble Venus in his life.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Alicia beamed at him, though it barely went noticed when Gabriella's eyes finally snapped upwards.

The way her eyes trained onto his was neither pity nor sympathy. Troy was taken aback at the way the milk chocolate circle around her irises was gentle, feathery in comparison to the fire that burned with intensity in her sharp pupils. Her lips, shimmering under the yellow lights, were slightly pursed - but not in anger or irritation. There was no definition in how she was feeling, what blurred emotion was smudged over her forehead. There was suddenly nothing more he wanted than to press, then to interrogate just as she might have. He didn't know what she was thinking, but there was only one thing that was certain.

She had discovered something about him.

Alicia, apparently not impressed by the passion that brewed between them, teetered between the balls of her feet, "Erm…earth to Bolton? Gabriella?"

At the sound of her name, Gabriella quickly ducked her head away once again. This made an annoyance curl in his stomach at the breakage. Carefully, Gabriella glanced back up at him and sent a wobbly smile, "Alicia's right, the guys were amazing."

"Thank you." Troy responded slowly, hesitant in case she might explode.

He wanted to know –every inch of him suddenly yearned to discover what she had. Was it his all-star status? The lights and glamour and lost dreams? Or was the information deeper? Had she unveiled his abrupt departure? The fateful night his family was stolen? Did she know about Emily?

More importantly… did she know about the baby?

"I think if Hammer starts working on his fluidity and Garcia keeps up his point average, you guys have a solid shot." Alicia's voice was like glass dipped in tar.

Finally, Troy ripped his eyes from Gabriella and felt the lurch of his stomach once again. It was slightly hypocritical that he be worried while he had practically told Gabriella to go discover his nightmares. He wanted her to know –he wished to share openly about himself and have no hidden skeletons in his closet. But a part of him was frightened of her discoveries. He questioned if she would desire to never speak to him again once the entire picture was painted. It terrified him, yet he had to be ready if a wrath was surfacing beneath her façade.

"Yeah… the guys played well..." Troy distantly agreed before finally facing Alicia. The jade in her eyes was harsh, vivid even, "Ericson's got to grab the rebounds though." He added quickly.

She nodded curtly just before flipping her chestnut hair around and cranked an eyebrow at Gabriella, "What'd you think about the game?"

Gabriella's eyes practically doubled in size. Either she had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't recognized someone was speaking to her, or she was shocked that Alicia was asking for her opinion. She glanced at both of them, scuffing her boots against the bright surface of the hardwood. A few lingering students passed behind her before she finally seemed to find the words to say, "Honestly? I don't know that much about basketball other than the orange ball goes into the hoop," the embarrassment in her quiet tone made Troy frown, "but it looked like you did well." She attempted to save with a shrug of her slim shoulders.

"I'm really glad you came," he confessed softly, ignoring the wolf whistles and whispers that his team was giving from behind their backs. In the corner of his vision, he could see The Hammer pointing in their direction and vibrating the floorboards with his excited jumps, "Both of you. Thanks… it means a lot to me."

Alicia seemed to be swallowing any bitterness that was left in her face and rolled her eyes playfully. Her elbow nudged his teasingly, "Getting soft, Bolton? It sickens me."

"_Dude, look at the legs of that chick! I'd bang…"_

"SO!" Troy practically screamed to silence the immaturity behind him. Clapping his hands together, he rubbed them raw before looking between them, "Who wants to grab a bite to eat?"

With jaws dropped, the girls sent him incredulous "what the fuck are you smoking?"s stamped across their forehead. The stiffening of their limbs was almost synchronized, making him cringe at his mistake. It hadn't occurred to him the awkwardness of the situation until it actually left his lips. Gabriella's face was paled with shock and Alicia appeared as though he had just risen from the grave.

"Um…" Gabriella drew, trying to train her attention to anywhere but either them, "I…"

"I'm gonna have to take a rain check." Alicia chimed in with her voice both strong and authoritative. Her skinny fingers hiked up the purse dangling from her shoulder with an unreadable expression. A part of him wanted to stop her and insist that she change her mind, but the majority of him hushed any chance of a protest. She took a defining step away that echoed throughout the almost empty gymnasium, "I'm sure the girls are back at the apartment, they're gonna want company."

Troy was silent, however he heard an unexpected call of her name from a tiny, "Alicia…"

Alicia appeared just as surprised by Gabriella as he was. But instead of accepting her offer, she shook her straight strands again with a plastic smile, "Nah… there's a bottle of tequila with my name on it." With two holes burning into his exposed forehead, Troy turned to her glare, "Nice game, Bolton. I'm really proud."

With the final words dripping through the air, Alicia spun on her heels and marched purposefully towards the opened doors. The wooden bleachers seemed all too tight and closing in as he watched her backside disappear as the corner turned. It wasn't until he realized he could hear the sound of Gabriella's slow breath that it dawned that they were the only two inhabitants of the yellow gymnasium. His skin suddenly tingled with desire as he turned towards her, watching as she nervously tugged at her grey sleeves. Mouth softening, Troy couldn't help the magnetic attraction as he stepped towards her, breaking any barrier that may have been guarding between.

"Come, please?" Troy begged and ducked his head so he could gaze at her through his seductive lashes.

The way she looked up at him was unnerving. With the inside of her cheek caught between her teeth, Gabriella rocked on her boots unevenly. He watched her ponder – his mind counting the slamming heartbeats as he waited. After a moment too long, Gabriella stammered, "I… I don't know…"

"Gabriella," he whispered, stretching out his hand to collect hers. The skin felt warm between the lace of his fingers and he felt every inch of himself burn with a longing fire that reflected in the need of his sparkling ceruleans, "don't think about yesterday, don't think about tomorrow. Right now is all that matters… tonight is all that counts."

There was a long, excruciating pause. His pulse rapidly hammered against his wrists and his eyes darted furiously over the shadows of her face. Suddenly, the truth of his words swam through his veins faster than a brand of heroine. Tonight was about forgetting his lost love, child, and dreams. There was no more bitterness, betrayal or depression hidden by a façade. That night, Troy was entirely focused on the journalist standing before him. That evening… Troy was a man – a man about to take a beautiful woman out for dinner and let down his inhibitions.

It was at the moment that Gabriella eagerly nodded her head with a growing smile that Troy realized that for the first time in four years, he was about to live.

* * *

"Stop, no! Troy… no!"

"Your ass is mine Montez!"

Her skin was iced over mountain ranges of goosebumps that covered the map of her limbs. Drenched with rainwater, her curls flopped around her back like tentacles as she clawed at the toned torso of the body fighting through the empty stairwell. Due to his larger size, she found herself unsuccessful at halting his advancement towards the top of the steps. Their feet thumped dangerously against the dim walls while flashes of dazzling lightning flickered blue and white hues around. Aggressively, her fingers pulled at his shoulder from behind to rip him backwards, but were unsuccessful with his powerful muscles as an advantage.

"This… isn't… fair!" she huffed and tried to wiggle her way through the space his bicep and leg provided. Their soaking clothes stuck together and rubbed their flesh raw, but neither seemed to notice when Troy finally released his barrier and began to sprint up the stairs with every clap of his dress shoes against the floorboards, "You cheater!" Gabriella practically screeched before pathetically chasing after him in her blistering boots.

The water between the fabric of her clothes weighed her down as she burst into the hallway she had grown to know so well. Troy could be seen down the long corridor –his black jacket hung off his shoulder as he reached up to slam his palm against the light wood of the apartment door. With a famous giggle, Gabriella curled her arms around the soggy cotton of his shirt and squeezed his abdominals tightly. She pressed her cheek to the frigid surface of his back and listened to the sound of his jingling keys in the lock, "I didn't cheat, I used my resources."

"Muscles don't count as resources, you jerk!" She rebutted playfully and jabbed her pointer finger into his tight shoulder.

"You're just jealous," Troy mocked and swung her around, once he managed to open the door, so his azure gaze was trailing deviously over the surface of her face, "that I won."

"No!" Gabriella corrected and pushed against his stone chest, "I'm _pissed _that you _cheated_."

Shaking his head, Troy chuckled before grasping her shoulders and pressing his frozen lips to her forehead, "Resources."

Gabriella couldn't quite explain the raging and contradicting emotions that had rushed through her in the past few hours. On one hand, she couldn't exactly deny that she looked at him differently. There was no doubt in her mind that the cause for his abrupt departure from stardom had everything to do with a peed-on stick with two crossed lines. The stupidities of her and Emily, however, were not her business to judge. If he had gotten her pregnant, that was his own fault. Instead of feeling bitter, she found herself sympathizing with his loss of not only his fiancé, but his child as well. It also defined the hesitations of their own, for lack of a better word, relationship. They had stopped at a sports bar for a casual dinner and ate as they might have without her newfound knowledge. Quite the opposite, Gabriella felt polarized by the magnetic pull of his vulnerability –even if he did insist they race to his floor in the thunder booming above.

Her teeth began to chatter from the residue of the showers from outside. Tilting his head slightly, Troy began to create friction with his hands on her forearms, "Jesus... I should get you some warm clothes."

"Troy, you don't need to… I should head back to my apartment anyways." Gabriella replied while feeling the ghost of his grasp against her chilled skin again. Glancing back, Troy shot her a curious look that sent her heart fluttering. The way his normally brunette hair was matted raven against his face was just as attractive as when it was spiked off his head.

"You really think I'm going to let you go home, at eleven fifteen on a Friday night in one of the mug capitals of the US, in a torrential downpour?" He asked with amusement glittering in his amplified eyes.

She looked awkwardly around his living room, but could help but feel a surge of excitement pump through her veins, "Erm…"

Troy snickered before disappearing into the shadows of his room, "Just don't drool on my couch."

Gabriella stood nervously in the middle of the apartment, shivering despite the warm colors that decorated the walls. She suddenly felt as though she was a teenager girl being told her boyfriend's parents would be out for the night and engaging in activities that were far too mature for that age to experience. It took all the strength in the world not to squeal or voice how eager she was to spend the night under his roof. Carefully, she held onto the edge of the couch and wondered if it was a dream.

"Sorry these are probably way too big." Troy apologized as he emerged once again, carrying two blankets and a pile of what looked like clothes in his muscular arms, "But I don't have anything girl in my closet."

Briefly, Gabriella wondered if any of Alicia's articles were lying somewhere around, "No, they're perfect. Thank you." She softly chimed.

Troy sent her a fond smile that made her cheeks burn and her pulse race, "You can change in the bathroom." He nodded towards the corner he was referencing.

After stealing the gray long-sleeved and crimson basketball shorts from the towering pile, Gabriella hurried to where she was directed. She closed the door and flipped the light switch so the matching, clay-toned paint gave a calming mood. Glancing into her reflection, she was slightly horrified with the smudges of the mascara/eyeliner combo down her cheek. Her usually voluminous hair stuck to her skin like black glue and her cheeks were paled in her dropped temperature. Quick to rid the cold, she stripped to her damp bra and panties set and began to pull on the shorts. They threatened to pool into a pile on the tile floor, but Gabriella tied the waistband as tight as her numb fingers would allow.

"You didn't have to do that!" Gabriella announced guiltily as she stepped into the darkened living room once again with her long tresses tied back and the "Wildcats" shirt covering her tiny breasts. In her absence, Troy had stripped to a white v-neck and heather-gray sweats with his hair still in a disarranged mess. The TV was glowing some news stationed in the dim lightning, projecting a bluish glow onto the makeshift bed he was patting with his palm. She immediately recognized the tie blanket that had led her to the discovery of Emily, but tried to shove all thoughts of him with another woman out of her already troubled mind. Gabriella felt spoiled by his kindness and guilty for just marching in and taking over his apartment

He rolled his eyes before tossing a spare pillow against the squishy arm, "Take advantage of my charity."

She grinned brightly at him and padded on the carpet until she reached the furniture. The black shades over his golden cheeks provided an appeal she couldn't quite resist. A part of her was fighting her natural instincts to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him soundlessly. But she had more self control than that, and instead followed his lead as he plopped down onto her sleeping arrangements – immediately, her head found her favorite spot on his chest as she curled her legs beneath her butt. He shifted, curling his arm around her waist while she draped hers over his strong abs. Her ear was pressed so tightly that she could feel the even pound of his heart from the opposite side of his torso.

"Thank you." Gabriella said candidly after a few moments of silence and gentle caresses down her arm.

Troy let out a low laugh, "For what? Holding you hostage?"

Her feet suddenly tingled with anticipation as she gazed up into the beauty his eyes bestowed. It was a familiar feeling –the pound of her heart and the butterflies batted against the walls of her stomach. However, in a way it was unique to _him _as well. She couldn't remember the last time she had lusted for the taste of someone else's lips against hers as she did in that moment. They were so close together, inches that separated them for what she had desired for so long. It didn't matter if he and Emily had been idiots in college; all that mattered was them stretched across the soft pillows of her bed for the evening.

Slowly, Gabriella's finger drew an untraceable circle around the plain of his chest, "No… for tonight. I had a really great time," she smiled, "and for being concerned that I not get pneumonia."

The grin was returned, "I'm not as much of a jerk as you think."

Her palm dangerously slid to the revealing skin against his cotton tee to cup the side of his warming neck, "No, you're just a cheater."

"Nah… I hate cheaters." His smirk was innocent compared to the way Gabriella's advances were almost as obvious as if she had a neon sign blinking on her forehead that shined, "I want you!"

"Mmm…" Gabriella moaned and let her lips hang in a position that begged for assault.

He reached up and rubbed his thumb gingerly over the surface of her flushed cheek. Responsively, Gabriella's breath increased pace and her eyes fluttered closed. Her fingers became numb, yet she was so unbelievably aware of the buzzing news and the rain that patted from outside. This was it –she could feel the excitement in her bones but held herself from taking matters into her own hands. Everything she had ever wanted was just moments away, her impatience was growing. Seconds ticked away like hours, each one more excruciating than the last. She waited, longing and counting her heartbeats...

Midway between thirteen and fifteen seconds later, she felt a tormented kiss press to her forehead.

Immediately, Gabriella's eyes ripped open to take in the full sight of his stormy irises staring helplessly back at her. She practically choked on air, feeling the plunge stomach took in rejection and disappointment. No, this couldn't be happening. They were mere inches, centimeters from being joined together after months of dancing around. His face was somber with an edge of sadness around the edges. Yet, he seemed to be struggling, fighting with himself as he closed his eyes and hung his head shamefully, "I should probably… head in." He softly said and just barely grazed her forehead with his.

"Troy…" She croaked while seated paralyzed. Painfully, he removed his arms and leaned forward to run a hand through his chestnut bangs in distress. The haunting shadows the TV drew on his face almost amplified his torture.

Troy swallowed as if this was the hardest self sacrifice he ever had to commit, "Get some sleep alright?" He whispered gently and leaned forward to peck the back of her palm.

Horrified, she mechanically nodded her head, though her heart and brain were screaming for her to stop him. But like a bad accident, she had to watch as he slowly rose to his feet and took a deep breath to calm himself. The crinkles against the couch were like mocking ghosts as he reached for the remote and clicked the television to a silence. Momentarily, she was blind -which was probably best, because pathetic tears began to cloud her vision and the last thing she needed now was to see the effect he had upon her. The sound of his feet against the carpet was booming louder than the thunder that rattled his window. Heartbroken, Gabriella let out a sigh before flopping onto the pillow and fought the urge to shriek.

Against her frustration, she heard the silky voice hum from across the room, "Night Gabriella."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Gabriella was barely able to get out, "Night Troy." She cursed herself for losing the opportunity of her lifetime.

However, the unmistakable sound of his entrance into the bedroom echoed.

Suddenly, Gabriella froze, her heart finally jerked into a permanent stone and her eyes widened despite their burns. The world suddenly rushed past her as she swore she was able to make out the drop of his shirt against the floor or the rustle of his sheets. The rain pounding against the side of the building wasn't enough to mask the noise of his light switching off. Or his exasperated sigh. Everything was suddenly panned out in black and white –the obviousness of the fishhook he was dangling before her, waiting for her to bite. Nothing seemed real, not until it dawned upon Gabriella that there was an unconscious invitation hanging through the thick air.

He had never closed the door behind him.

One side of her argued that this was all a misunderstanding and her teenage hormones resurfacing to direct her to places that she shouldn't be fraternizing with. If Troy really wanted to take a step on the latter of their relationship, he would have most certainly kissed her while he had had the chance. As she laid her head against the pillow, anything but relaxed, the thought seemed more prosperous each minute that ticked away. Troy was a man –men had an unsubtle way of asking a girl between their sheets and it was most definitely _not _by putting the control in the woman's court. Things would have been easier and more fluid if Troy had just yanked his sweats off and took her on that couch. But then again, most people would have just told her what had horrors had occurred in their pasts – Troy made her hunt for them.

Gabriella flipped over, her mind racing a marathon a minute. The blankets began to tangle around her bare ankles and tightened to cut off the circulation of blood flow. She kicked her toes free; the jumbling of her blankets acted like her thoughts. If she turned to stomach, she was too hot. If she turned side, the rain water reminded her of being too cold. There wasn't a position she could fall into that would make the cushions feel comfortable. Her gut was too twisted. This waiting, this questioning was driving her crazy throughout the half an hour that she struggled to find sleep.

Finally giving up, Gabriella flung herself onto her back and stared blankly at the ceiling. It had to be past midnight by that time, but she couldn't quite know for sure. The blackness of his apartment looked as it sounded: empty. She let out an excruciated sigh and strained for any movement from behind the walls that would reveal him coming. Nothing. It was as if he wasn't breathing beyond the archway, that he was leaving her to loneliness and isolation. But she could feel him, God could she feel his presence creep over the silky surface of her shaven legs. The ghost of him whispered sweet seductions into her ear, coaxing and tempting her with its perfection.

It burned. Every cell in her body was about to shut down with pain. Her desire suddenly became more than a want, more than a need.

She couldn't stand it any longer.

Insecurities, doubts, hesitations – all were lost as she tore the covers off from her slender frame. Slightly hysterical, Gabriella practically leapt from the couch and soundlessly padded across the soft floor to avoid banging her knee against any awaiting furniture. Now wasn't the time to reveal her clumsiness –she had a mission that had to be completed. All of New York disappeared around her: the lights, the papers, the opportunities. Troy's past was lost –there was no baby or Alicia or Emily. None of that mattered anymore. The only thing that ran through her mind was how many seconds it would take to hurry through the awaiting bedroom.

The room was balming as she entered the threshold, yet it was eerily silent. She had expected to be greeted with the even sound of his breathing that would confirm he was asleep and completely forgotten her, but there was none. If it weren't for the shimmer of lights from beyond the billowing maroon curtains, she would have thought him dead. But there was a tiny movement beneath the smoky comforter to prove his existence. Suddenly, she wasn't certain if she was more terrified to make the journey or excited. The idea of him turning her down was still in the question, still up for grabs. Despite this, Gabriella sucked in a trembling breath, realizing that now or never had bestowed upon her. Without a word, she flew past the glowing green alarm clock and dresser that held the necklace of his past lover like the meaningless hunk of medal it was. When she finally made it to the side of the mattress, she almost leapt back in shock that two sapphire orbs of light already shined through the blackness at her.

Without wasting any time, Gabriella dropped helplessly to her knees and cared not if bruises would swell on her caps in the morning. Her hand tentatively cupped around his smoothed cheek and braced herself for the possible push. Fluidly, he rose onto his forearm to meet her caress but fought the temptation to close his eyes blissfully. The gaze never faltered or broke while he slid to an intimate seating, revealing his shiny muscles in the sensual moonlight, "Gabriella…" He sang huskily, neither rejecting nor inviting her. But his actions betrayed him –he frantically plunged his hand to the mess of her curls and gripped with a desperate passion that was life dependent.

"I'm not her." Gabriella whispered, her voice slightly cracking at the premiering reference to his past lover. He had stopped breathing with a hitch, but it only further induced the fury of his grasp beginning to knead at her side. For a moment, she thought she had made a mistake. It was too soon, too stupid to bring up his dead fiancé now, of all times. Yet, it seemed to spark a trigger in his eyes, a need to prove something within his soul. She held his face between her palms, feeling the intensity of vulnerability and lust wave with each of her pants, "I will never be her Troy. But I'm… I'm here now… and I want…"

Her voice was suddenly silenced with the most earth shattering kiss her dreams and fantasies had ever created. A natural euphoria jolted within, like the lightning from outside surged from her lips through her veins and exploded through her nerves. She had no choice but to gasp and meet his lip's caresses with as much fire he gave way. His right arm cradled the small of her back with the other still knotted in her hair when he whipped her around. Gabriella was almost too lost in the kiss to notice that before she could take a breath, she was horizontal and his tongue dueled with hers zealously. Her nails raked against his bare shoulders to gain some balance as his hip thrust down between the new divisions of her legs.

He suddenly rose, breathless and eyes penetrating with desire, "Don't ever compare yourself to her." He ordered dangerously before fusing their lips together again in a heated battle of dominance, "Ever."

His words were lost with the moans of their names and whimpers of lust as they tangled together for the first time. With each item of clothing they ripped off the other, their past nightmares and horrors pooled upon the floor in a forgotten heap. The suckles of her neck, caresses of her chest, and stroke of his muscles were not for numbing pain or forgotten angst as he might have done with others. She had traced every divot and curve of his spine, he worshiped her body with kisses down her dampened skin. The sweat beads that began to trickle down their flesh were like ridding of their sins, their betrayals and lies. They rolled together, naked, and exposed to the other in an inferno of long awaited release. The barriers were broken when they soundlessly found a fresh beginning in the purity of their newfound relationship –completely revealed to the other.

And it was upon his nightstand that the emerald lights flipped to the digits 1:14 when he first slid inside her in the ultimate union of commitment –born anew.


	18. Minute Eighteen

**A/N: After the response for the last chapter, I really don't know what to say. I had struggled with this story in the past and just receiving the excitement I had was just incredible. Thank you, so much for trusting me and having faith in my writing and not giving up when I was stuck. I'm happy, really really grateful for the wonderful readers I have. You definitely know how to make an author smile.**

**I hope you like this chapter. It's probably not the most exciting, but a little well deserved fluff never hurt anyone. Thank you so much for reading, you guys are amazing and I would totally send Zac Efron drizzled in chocolate if I could.**

* * *

Gabriella had many reasons to be afraid.

New York City was arguably one of the most dangerous in the country. Part of this was due to the astronomical amount of people that lived there. There were more psychotic minds just because there were more brains _to _be demented. The chances of her getting mugged or raped while walking the short strides from the bright yellow taxi to her apartment were more than she would feel comfortable with, but it was a sacrifice she had to make if she wanted a chance at her dream job. Which, in reality, wasn't even a career. It was an internship –one that she was not getting paid at and at the end of her nine months, she wasn't even certain she would get offered a position at the paper. Sure, the chances were likely now that she was writing daily for the press, but she was very lucky her mother was a well respected doctor back home and was able to send funds along if need be. This also frightened her as well. The combination of her savings from the coffee shop and her mom's aid was enough to get her by, but did she really want to be dependent on her mother at age twenty-three? She could get ill with terminal cancer or be hit by a bus that morning.

However, the only fear in Gabriella's mind that following morning was waking up and finding the past hours a dream.

Although the rain from outside had subsided to a few careful pats against the window sill, the morning could have still been mistaken for night as the dreary shadows grew over the grey comforter. However, the thermal heat from beneath the sheets was enough to shield her from the worries of the outside world. Her head was nestled between the soft pillow and a scratchy cheek. Their legs were tangled together in an intricate web she had absolutely no idea how to unknot –not that she wanted to of course. His arm draped over her abdomen, holding her tightly to him to be certain that she wouldn't be able to wiggle away. Gabriella's skin felt warm with contact.

It was one of those special moments in life –the ones that were so calm and serene that the world appeared so much smaller than the billions and billions of people scurrying about their days. In the dark, on that rainy morning, life seemed about as simple as a boy and a girl. How ironic it was that in the middle of the busiest city in the United States, Gabriella found herself in a quiet state of paradise. Despite the honks and whizzing of the cars below his dripping windowsill, she felt as peace in Troy's muscular grasp. The divots and grooves of his chest were far more magnificent than the Grand Canyon. And, although his eyes were closed in a blissful slumber, she knew that the pools of cyan were much more breathtaking than the oceans at sunset.

Slowly, Gabriella's slim hand slipped over the tightening of his forearm on her waist. Her opposite set of fingers delicately laced within the division of his and gently squeezed his palm. If it was possible, she leaned back further into his chest and grazed her forehead against his jaw line and fluttered her eyes to a close. The concocting scent of his skin mixed with the fumes of sex filled her nostrils. The room was musky with a hint of passion.

His ribs suddenly slowed from their even pace, not breathing quite as heavily. Gabriella reflexively tensed and squeezed his fingers gently again. Somewhere deep within her neck, he snuggled into the curve and pulled her stomach tighter to his back. Gabriella felt the electricity surge through her heart again before feeling a gentle kiss press to her skin; his hands were tender as they threaded through her silky locks to gain easier access.

"Hi." He whispered, grazing his lips over her ear and softly tracing his fingers through the division of her breasts. Gabriella couldn't help but tremble and arch her back, digging her nails into the back of his scalp with her eyes still shut.

"Hi."

As he pressed against her, Gabriella felt the ease of his languorous kiss deepen. She leaned backwards so the bare skin of her shoulder smoothed its way down his. When her spine finally connected with the spring of the mattress, his hand trailed from her neck to her tiny bicep. She suddenly felt so small, so fragile and breakable beneath his powerful muscles. He remained on his side, but squared his torso so it hovered over hers with either arm on each side of her ears. Each kiss was longer, more passionate than the last without crossing the line of over-zealous.

Gently pecking her lips with a smile, Troy opened his eyes to meet her gaze with the most sparkling blue lust she had ever seen, "Sleep alright?" He murmured, as if spoken too loud would break the peace.

She could have made some sweetly sexy comment about how she had the best sleep of her life because she was in his grasp, but instead she traced his triceps with the tips of her fingers and cupped his elbow with her palm with a devious smirk, "You hogged the covers."

Troy snorted amusedly before dipping towards her mouth to sprinkle kisses across her jaw line, "Did I?"

Gabriella nodded against his forehead, "It's kind of annoying actually."

"Mmm, careful Montez. Keep insulting my ego and you're not getting breakfast." He warned huskily, careful not to place his pelvis against hers once again. The lack of contact was slightly frustrating given how intimate the discovery of the other's bodies was a few hours before. He was gentle with his caresses as his nose trailed over the valley of her cheek and neck. It was as though he was feeling her again, her entirety and being. The way he reveled over her with each ginger press of his lips or fluttering adoration of his eyes was more than enough to send Gabriella back into a state of bliss.

"Not hungry." Gabriella lied and gripped tighter at his shoulders to pull him down again.

On cue, a gurgling sound rumbled through her stomach. Troy chuckled at the flush of pink that rushed to her cheeks. After placing his palm onto her flat abdomen, he sent her a cheeky grin and pecked her lips again, "That says otherwise," He mumbled, rubbing the surface of his forehead against hers once last time.

Slowly, Troy lifted the toasty covers from their bodies. Her eyes rose to the sight of the perfection of his nudity. The darkness the previous night had prevented her from fully being able to appreciate such an art that was his tendons and bones. She had an overwhelming urge to reach up again to outline each couture and fold of his frame. Her fingers ached with longing to trace his defined veins on his arms or the mysterious spider-web scars that branched from the top of his spine in tiny threads to his bronze chest. His training during his college years had been good to his body – his physique was more than NBA worthy. And she could now attest that his stamina was just as elite as well.

Gabriella's exposed skin suddenly felt a rush of icy air cast in a hazy cloud. She shivered involuntarily, which consequently made Troy frown when she crossed her arms. He guided her safely to her knees and folded her tightly against him again with a quick squeeze. Gabriella took in his scent one last time before he released and climbed off of the haphazard bed. She followed his lead and bent down to retrieve the clothes he offered her last night –the shirt was crumpled in the opposite direction as the shorts.

"So what's on the menu?" Gabriella asked with a sweet smile as she wiggled the long sleeve over the kinks in her hair. Inwardly, she cringed with embarrassment, knowing that her locks that resembled a rat's nest. If he had noticed, he didn't mention it as his eyes trailed adoringly over the length of her legs while she shimmied the shorts on and triple knotted the draw string.

His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he walked towards her and threaded his fingers through hers, "Only the best…" He promised with a wink and led her out of the gray bedroom into a slightly more illuminated kitchen –slightly being the key word.

She was happy there wasn't an awkward post-first-time-sex attitude between them. Whether or not it was because he was so experienced with this intimacy or because they were just that close was irrelevant. Gabriella was doing her at most best to ignore his previous lover and vixen best friend –neither existed that morning. Emily and her unborn baby would have to be discovered at a different time; for right now all she was focused on was indulging in whatever breakfast was in his cabinets and keeping her shorts from exposing her bare ass.

"So, the best is black caffeine and Cheerios?" Gabriella asked skeptically when Troy removed the can of cheep coffee and cereal onto the table. Rolling his eyes, Troy released her grasp to flip the light switch before turning to her with sleepy , yet piercing, blue stare.

"Okay Sharpay. I'll just call for a butler." He teased while reaching over to place a filter into the coffee maker and spilled the beans with a wafting scent.

Gabriella giggled and shook her head. "I was just kidding, this is perfect Troy." She reassured him before pulling out a chair from the kitchen table and easing herself into it. As she bent, she felt the parts of her body she didn't even know existed stretch in soreness, reminding her of the eroticism last night held. A blush crept onto her cheeks in the memories the moment Troy spun around with two white bowls in his hands. His thick eyebrows furrowed with both curiosity and amusement while he clattered the bowl down, tilting his head to the side in study.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked casually, though she was certain he had a fairly decent idea of what was on her mind.

Biting her lip, Gabriella smiled at the easiness of his confidence - as though the cockiness from pre-Emily-death was returning with every second that ticked away. She shrugged her tiny shoulders and felt the baggy shirt slip down her skin, "Nothing. Pass me a spoon."

Troy jutted his chin to coax her. "Come on Montez, just tell me."

After a crush of her cereal, Gabriella leaned towards him and whispered mockingly, "I'm a woman of many secrets," before indulging in her cheerios once again.

* * *

"It's still drizzling… maybe you should just stay here for the rest of the day." Troy suggested while standing under the looming overhead of the apartment building. Cars zoomed past and sprayed puddles of muck in the direction of the sidewalk every few seconds, splattering the cement with dirt. The sun was fighting through a cloud of grey that hung through the skyscrapers, calm after the storm.

Gabriella, with her hair now tied up and dressed in her slightly damp boots and jacket from the previous night, beamed brightly at him while her fingers threaded over the hem of his white V neck, "I'm not the Wicked Witch of the West, Troy. I think I can handle a few drops of rain." She promised while slipping her hands to his shoulders in order to cup the back of his neck tenderly. Chuckling, Troy grabbed her thin hips and closed the distance between their abdomens, though still maintained eye contact. Despite the chill of her clothes, the heat between them was overpowering.

The concept was difficult for Troy to grasp – a few mere hours ago, Gabriella Montez had been within his grasp, completely his. Shocked, yet ecstatic, he could barely explain his excitement and felt as though he was a seventeen year old losing his virginity once again. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so giddy, so positive about life. It was euphoric, being able to mark his claim on her as he was doing beneath the sprinkling rain. Everything felt so peaceful, so perfect and serene even in the middle of New York City. The very last thing he desired was to be saying goodbye as they were, but he could have only drawn breakfast out for so long and by now it was rounding noon. Gabriella had informed him that she needed to tend to her own activities, even after Troy pleaded with a shower of kisses and what was almost cohesion once again. Unfortunately, Gabriella had put an end to it before it could truly persuade her to stay.

"You act like her sometimes." Troy mumbled against her lips with a cheeky smile. In response, Gabriella mockingly widened her eyes in offense, but the upturned corners of her mouth betrayed her.

"How dare you call me a witch, Troy Bolton." She slapped his chest in jest, "I do not have green skin and warts!"

"Mmm… really?" He mused, brushing the exposed skin of her neck with his lips. There was something about kissing any part of her that was so unbelievably euphoric. He couldn't remember if Emily's flesh tasted this sweet – then again, thoughts of his fiancé were far in a distant land. Within the past twenty-four hours, he hadn't thought about his ex once. No comparisons were made between bodies when Gabriella's, or rather Troy's, clothes hit the floor and he relished in the perfection of her nudity. In all honesty, no other woman seemed to exist in the world beside her. And of course, Troy wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"No! I do not!"

Drawing small circles on her lower back with his thumb, Troy shook his head, "Sorry… will you ever forgive me?"

After grinning like a little princess, Gabriella rolled up onto her tiptoes and muttered, "I think I can consider it." she whispered before weaving her fingers through the tiny hairs on the back of his neck, "but I'll have to get back to you on it."

Cocking his eyebrow suggestively, Troy felt his heart flutter at the thought of seeing her once again. His hand gingerly curled around her elbow, "Yeah? And when can you get back to me?" He asked and pressed a kiss to the very tip of her button nose. Gabriella giggled –the sound of her laughter was almost therapeutic. And her smile; her pearly whites were brighter than all of Times Square.

"I'll have to check my schedule."

Rolling his eyes, he flicked his unstyled bangs further off his forehead, "Right… the writer. I have to fight with the press now."

Gabriella shook her head, the ebony curls sashayed from shoulder to shoulder, "I _am _the press."

"Oh yeah… well then nothing to schedule." He leaned down again to capture her mouth.

After sharing a brief kiss once again, she attempted to wiggle from his tightening grip, "Troy, really I need to get going."

He groaned, "Gabriella!"

Gabriella squealed when he tickled her sides, "Troy! Please, I need to go…"

Letting out an exasperated breath, Troy finally detangled his limbs from her curves and took a step back. Suddenly, after a night in the unbreakable knot, the foot distance between the two ached. It now seemed impossible to be away from her for more than three minutes. Gabriella sensed the lack as well. Her mocha eyes dulled painfully as Troy shuffled further again, each inch felt more excruciating than the last, "You should catch that cab." He nodded towards the muddy street once again with an oh so cocky smirk across his bronzed face. Glancing towards the street once again, she chewed on her bottom lip in contemplation. Finally unable to take it any longer, Gabriella rushed forward and threw hands to his cheeks and fused their kiss once again.

"One more kiss." She breathed.

However, Troy knew that one would quickly turn to more… and more…

* * *

When Gabriella was fourteen years old, she received her very first kiss. Quite honestly, it was one of the most awkward and cringe-worthy experiences of her insistence. She had done her best over the years by repressing the memory to a blur of slobbery salvia and a bloody lip while in one of her frienemy's pool house. However, what she did remember was that twelve minutes later, Gabriella pulled out her clunky cell phone and immediately dialed the number of her best friend, Taylor. The girls gushed for three hours about her loss of lip-virginity, even if it was slightly less than perfect. After that night, the best friends were always there to swoon and sigh when their crushes/significant other's/hook up of the week provided a story to fill the night with giggles and ice cream consumption.

Unfortunately, that afternoon, Gabriella had called seven times to the McKessie-Danforth residence –each time being greeted to an annoying answering machine. Her cell phone, always on her, was also sent straight to the voicemail. This was potentially problematic, given that one of the most epic and life altering events had occurred the previous evening. If there was ever a time that Gabriella Montez needed Taylor McKessie, it was after she had showered upon her return to her own apartment. But Taylor hadn't answered, which only led to Gabriella's antsy putts around the bedroom. Finally, she had been unable to take the silence and called the only other person she could think to tell.

"So, what's the big secret?" Jason asked while crossing his jean clad legs with a devious look upon his paled cheeks.

Gabriella sighed with a smile and fingered her coffee cup slowly; drawing out the time it took to speak. The java shop was busy that Saturday – it seemed that everyone had plans to escape the on and off rain that trickled down the sides of the buildings around. After calling and begging Jason to come out before he had other affairs to attend to, she met him in the café a half hour later. They managed to snag a tiny table in the front of the store, just near the splattered window. Kelsi was not working, therefore allowing them complete privacy from Troy's friends.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Gabriella glanced up with a hesitant expression. She wasn't quite sure how to form the words on her tongue, for if they finally slipped then they would be true. Of course, she loved the validity of her and Troy's union, but the concept was just as frightening as well, "I um… I sort of… have to tell you something."

Jason chuckled, and it was then that Gabriella noted the attractive appearance of his sports coat and gray shirt beneath. He seemed all too dressed up for a simple meeting of coffee with a friend, "Yeah, Montez I know. You called and told me that and dragged me out of my house and we've now been sitting here for almost an hour talking about the fucking rain and how Frank needs to go on Atkins. Get on with it."

"Oh, right… sorry." Gabriella giggled before adjusting her scarlet cardigan upon her shoulders, "Why do you look so nice anyways?"

"Meeting with The Pope," Jason answered sarcastically, "Just stop avoiding the fucking question Montez, I'm on a schedule here."

Her eyes fluttered to a close and her body trembled, reminiscing over the way his hands made her skin feel like fire when he touched her. Or she recalled the dazzle of his oceanic blues, "Um… well I didn't want to bug you, but Taylor wasn't around and I um… I had to tell someone or I was going to explode…"

"Gabriella," Jason annunciated her name with a closed mouth grin, "just tell me."

Twisting her fingers together excitedly, Gabriella took a deep breath to steady herself. Jason appeared bemused – maybe he already knew what she was going to say by the look of jest that crossed his face. Finally discovering the courage, Gabriella glanced up to meet his eyes. Her heart hammered as she slowly opened her dry mouth, "Last night, um," her voice was much higher than normal, not in nerves but in disbelief. She did her best to calm trembling hand to squeeze the cardboard that held her latte, "I went to Troy's basketball game or whatever…"

"Oh yeah? Did you get into a show down with the bestie?"

Gabriella's lips twitched with rage, "Would you just shut up for five seconds you asshole?!" She hissed with fire in her tone. Jason pressed his forefinger and thumb together and slid it across his lips as though he were zipping them shut. He then flicked his wrist, throwing away the imaginary key and then crossed his thin arms and stared at her. Then he motioned his hand so she could continue.

"Thank you." She said softly, "So um… after the game Alicia wanted to bail, so we went to this bar… and then it rained I guess, so we went back to his apartment… and…" Jason's grin grew wider and wider with ever word that she spoke, which consequently caused her cheeks to flush redder and redder. However, he remained silent as she took a breath once again and let out a dry laugh to herself, "it just sort of happened."

Jason snorted, yet mutely pumped his fist in triumph. Gabriella stared, watching both intently and with anticipation for him to say something. His actions were victorious, but he refused to utter a word which responsively annoyed her. Flapping her flats to the floor, Gabriella impatiently waited as he wiggled around in a celebratory dance. Unable to take the silence any longer, she slapped his forearm with a dangerous eye, "Stop acting like an idiot and say something damn it!"

"I threw away the key." Jason mocked, but his tone was bright with enthusiasm, "Do I have permission to speak now?"

Rolling her dark eyes, Gabriella nodded, "Yes. Talk before I explode."

"Fuck me dead… it's about time that boy made a move on you." He pronounced with a glint in his smile.

Her mouth began to wobble as she fought the beam that rushed across her olive cheeks, "It's a bit unreal."

"I can imagine." Jason responded with a gentle swirl of his empty drink. Gabriella herself slowly took a sip of her coffee, but her hands were shaking too violently at the confession. A dribble of luke-warm liquid dribbled down her chin, "So how'd it happen?"

Gabriella swallowed and shrugged, though the kiss of a blush on her cheek was enough to prove her excitement, "I don't know… I was on the couch, and I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking and… I guess I just… walked into his room…"

Eyes doubling in size, Jason practically threw his cup across the room with disbelief, "YOU initiated it?! Damn Gabriella… I'm proud of you."

"It just happened. I didn't plan it but," she paused again to smile to herself before looking back up at him with smoldering eyes, "I'm so glad it did."

Jason nodded with understanding –he was just as bright as if it were he that finally was able to experience such bliss, "I'm happy for you babe, really happy." Apart from their brotherly-sisterly bickering, Gabriella found these words filled with truth. It was endearing that he approved of Troy, despite the mysteries and lies that came with him…

Gabriella suddenly froze and felt her heart skip a beat. The smile on her face slowly slid to a straight line and her eyes distantly glazed over with contemplation. With the excitement of their union, she had completely forgotten of the _other _information she needed to tell her photographer friend. Thoughts of Alicia's horrified face when Gabriella had her epiphany filled her mind again. She swallowed as Jason's black eyebrows narrowed with curiosity, "Gabriella? You alright?" He asked cautiously at her shift in mood.

Her high was not extinguished with the memory, but she had a sudden surge to share this other information with him as well. However, she was so lost in her own mind that she didn't notice the swinging door to the cozy coffee shop open or the new occupant who was surveying the scene. Instead, she let out another breath and leaned forward to drop her voice. The rest of the world disappeared as she pressed the pads of her fingers to the table, "I figured out something else last night. Something about his past." Gabriella informed him, the shadows off of the warm colored wood drew a mysterious glow over her already golden cheeks. Jason's thick eyebrow cocked as he squinted at her, suddenly just as intense as she was.

"Yeah? And?" He begged for her to continue.

Gabriella breathed deeply before whispering, "He got Emily…"

"I'm so sorry I'm early!"

Both heads whipped around violently with surprise. By reflex, Gabriella's heart raced in shock until she noted the soft curls that shaped the heart shape of the girl's face. Her thick rimmed glasses rested upon the round of her creamy nose. The musician was wrapped in a plaid dress that fell just before her knees, which were covered in black tights. She wore slim ballet flats that matched the buttons on her tiny pea coat. Gabriella glanced over to see that Jason's eyes were wide with both delight and awe. Kelsi smiled softly as she met Jason's stare, suddenly becoming oblivious to Gabriella's presence. It was now very clear why Jason was dressing up that evening.

"Kelsi! You look amazing!" Gabriella exclaimed as Jason rose in a trance-like state, only making the journalist giggle with amusement. So much for listening to her discovery.

"Thanks."

"Uh… hey." He stammered awkwardly, clearly bewitched by her ensemble.

"Hi." Kelsi mouthed back and clasped her hands together nervously.

There was a moment of silence that Gabriella found herself out of place as the two stared upon each other. She smiled fondly with understanding before pushing her dark chair out and rising to her feet as well. Neither noticed as she collected her jacket from the now empty table, nor when Gabriella bit her lip with happiness at the two. It seemed cupid was striking everyone on that current day.

"Is that the time already?" Gabriella glanced down at her left hand to stare at her imaginary watch, "I should really be heading home."

This seemed to snap Jason out of his hypnosis as he turned to look at her, finally remembering the conversation they were engaging in just before Kelsi's entrance. He looked guilty, but Gabriella tried to wave off the emotion and grin with just as much excitement as he had shown her earlier, "You sure? We could hang around here for a bit with you…"

"No, no…" she flapped her hand, "I'll just talk to you on Monday or something. I should probably go let the dog out." Neither Jason nor Kelsi made a comment of how she did not own an animal, let alone a dog, "You guys have fun. And let me know how the show is."

She hadn't expected a goodbye when she waved at both. Quickly, she stepped around the two and began to head towards the door, smiling to herself in the process. However, before she grasped onto the handle to march into the drizzling sky once again, she heard a call of her name that caused her to throw her curls back and meet Jason's summon. His hand rested upon Kelsi's shoulder and he had a twinkle in his black eye that couldn't be stripped away for all the depression in the world.

"I'm really happy for yah!" He shouted, even if no one else understood.

With one more wave of her fingers, Gabriella clasped her teeth together in giddiness once again, "Me too Jase… Me too."


	19. Minute Nineteen

The funeral was something that would forever be carved into Alicia's memory.

She could remember the vivid details about it like it had occurred that morning. The way the air smelled that heated scent of spring and freshly cut lawn. Beneath her black heels that squished in the mud when she arrived to the burial, she could feel the remnants of snow trickle into her pumps. There was a gusting breeze that whistled through the willow trees like the dead that lay beneath the earth were about to rise and haunt for all eternity. Birds flapped away in the oncoming down pour that threatened with the drag of the looming clouds above. Occasionally, a shimmer of sunshine would fight to surface, but the overcast atmosphere won its battle. The higher power watching over them wanted no happiness, no hope for a new dawn or horizon.

The moderate crowd that gathered around the moist hole that was newly etched from the ground let out occasional sniffles as the priest bellowed his final words of peace. Around her, women clutched their husbands like the grave would swallow one of the living instead of the broken body that lay shattered beneath the mahogany casket. The two children – cousins of the deceased – squeezed their mother's legs in tight fear and uncertainty. The black clothing condensed and clouded, each avoiding any of the other's eyes by chance if interrupting a private moment with their precious loved one for one final moment. Each sob that wailed from the woman who gave the dead life crackled – no one dared to silence her or request she not disturb the peace as she crumbled at her husband's feet.

Troy had been silent for the entire wake – a reflection of his muteness from the past four days that he had been in the hospital and the doctor had solemnly marched in with the news after her had regained conciousness. His divine face had been beaten and scared, for a line of dried blood drew from his hairline to his lip in a warlike wound. Gouges stained his forehead just as bruises welted upon his neck. His left arm, so muscular and proud, was imprisoned to a sling that yanked upon his nape. The chestnut bangs of his shag hung into his unseeing, frosted eyes. His lips never twitched nor showed recognition when the preacher begged for God to give her lover strength in this trying time. Paled like the ghosts around him, he made no motion to move or respond to the condolences given.

Alicia had stayed with him long after the others had left with a chewed upon lip and a broken heart. The parents had hugged him carefully with apologies tight with their lose squeezes. He hadn't hugged back, nor had he returned the grief. His eyes were black with death as they glared at the intricate decorations upon the wood as it slowly lowered itself to the ground in some sickening taunt. Not even his own bloodline could talk sense into him or make him budge. Alicia promised she would watch out for him, to be certain that he would not be drastic in his actions once he was isolated. Troy hadn't protested, but of course he hadn't accepted her presence either when the cars crunched away and disappeared in the mountainous distance.

It hadn't rained, but it might as well have. Alicia's tears flowed just as heavy and fierce as if a storm had thundered across the sky. Of course, the overwhelm that someone she had known would no longer breathe was unbearable, but it was not the reason for her cries. As she had cradled herself into a ball and watched the stone figure of Troy stand looming over the grave like the headstone itself, her lungs clenched harder and harder until it was almost impossible to breathe. The wind continued to whip at her face and stuck to the salt water dripping from her cheeks, but it could not shield her from his rigid frame gazing into the depths of the woman carrying the unborn child.

It was at that moment that Alicia realized Troy would never be the same again. There would be no cockiness in his demeanor to flaunt his talents nor would he hint for gratification from others. As his black suit carried with the gusts, she held the epiphany that would forever change her life. She loved him – there was no doubt that she would have devoted her entire existence to him. Even just days after Emily's death, Alicia selfishly yearned for him, even if she knew it was impossible now. Emily and the baby had not been the only ones crushed by the driver that night. There was something else, something with so much more power and magnitude that shattered at the sound of the doctor's words when Emily had been pronounced dead.

No matter what happened, the old Troy's heart would forever be buried six feet under with the dolled casket holding the dirty bones of the dead fetus and its mother.

* * *

"Hey! I wasn't expecting you." Alicia grinned with her chestnut hair swishing around her shoulders as she pushed the light door open further with her arm.

Standing somewhat awkwardly in the middle of the dark toned hallway, Troy breeched a wide yet shaky smile as he stood with his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his black pea-coat, "Sorry, I guess I should have called." he mused not only to her but to himself as well as he attempted to glance over her shoulder to peer into the noisy apartment, "Is this a bad time?"

Three in the afternoon had seemed somewhat safe that Thursday morning when Troy had decided that he needed to pay his best friend a visit. There was no real distinct neon sign that announced that day was the perfect opportunity to reveal the secret he had been keeping for almost two weeks. It was bothering him though, straight to the core. A slight feeling of betrayal had lurched in his stomach every time he texted her in the time that passed or the phone calls exchanged. She was, indeed, his best friend. She had the given right to know of the miracle that had occurred almost fourteen days before. But if the roles had been reversed, Troy was certain he would have wanted to know if she had found someone that meant the world to her.

There was a squeal that rung from inside the energetic apartment. Alicia threw her head back with a giggle upon her lips as she fully granted him entrance to reveal a blonde-haired girl rushing towards the entrance," Troy! You're here! Finally, someone with taste…"

Before he knew what was happening, the girl thrust aside his giggling best friend and threw her hand out to yank at his forearm. He had no choice but to stumble into the noisy apartment and listen to the door swing shut behind him. The immediate aroma of baking dough filled his nostrils almost as wonderfully as his mother's Christmas cookies. The atmosphere was warm, giddy with delight and happiness. Troy joined along in the laughter as he was whipped around towards the flour powdered kitchen table, "Where's the fire?" He chuckled and almost knocked into the wooden chair uncontrollably.

As the girl finally released her death clutch on him and stepped away, he was able to take a full look at the way her cropped hair was swept into a lose ponytail with tiny bleach strands sticking out. Her body was slim beneath the spotted apron, yet her green eyes twinkled with delight, "We're having an argument of who can make the best cookies. You've just become our official taste tester."

Glancing back at Alicia, Troy cocked a brunette eyebrow, "Whose we? Cuz I'm not trying anything you made."

"Fuck off Bolton." She hissed with her acorn eyes squeezing with amusement.

"Don't worry Troy," another glassier voice chimed, "It's between me and Jenny."

Troy turned around to see a caramel colored redhead float into the sectioned kitchen area. She was holding a tray of steaming chocolate chip cookies in all their gooey glory. The third, and final, roommate who was leaned against the countertop with her shimmering black hair flipping in a loose tie grinned a shy, yet excited, smile. Jenny eagerly waved her hand in dismissal before she hurried towards the oven to check on her baking dough, "It's not even a competition, because I'm going to win.

"Clearly you guys have been productive today." Troy teased with a friendly smile.

Alicia strolled over and nudged his hip with hers, "Like your any better mister 'I'm too lazy to read about joints so I'm going to go use them at the gym'."

"Hey, at least I'm doing something that sort of relates." He rebutted.

Alicia shook her head, the hard edges of her face shining in the bright sunlight, "Very true Bolton, very true."

Their eyes lifted and met – Troy was suddenly reminded why he was within the apartment anyways. He glanced sideways to see the other three women hovering over the creations with awe and insult in their tones. Alicia, however, remained in her spot and stared questioningly up at him. Slowly, she crossed her strong arms and waited for him to speak, to explain his random drop by. Running a hand through his shortened hair, Troy leaned towards her without contact, "You wanna go take a walk with me?" He asked carefully, fearful that if he worded himself in the wrong way, she would spring and lash out upon him.

"Yeah, let me get my coat." She placed a hand onto his bicep – a gesture that was friendly, yet Troy was wary.

Alicia quickly let go almost as soon as she touched him and quickly pranced in the direction of the bedroom he knew all too well. He watched until her limber body escaped into the shadows of her doorway. Blowing his styled bangs upwards once she was out of sight, Troy pitched the bridge of his nose and softly mumbled, "Here we go."

"Troy! Try my cookie dammit!"

* * *

Gabriella huddled into her wool jacket further as she stepped outside the doors, "So guess what Troy's finally doing today."

Her hair, which was pulled into long coils and tied just below her left ear, flipped around as she turned to face her friend fiddling with his camera. Jason's black eyebrows were furrowed with concentration and his normally paled cheeks were rosy with the frosty atmosphere. Slowly, they walked down the steps to the small news print which others were sprinting up to escape the cold. Even beneath her tights that filtered black onto her legs, the air was frosty enough for a cloud of smoke to condense every time she breathed. It seemed winter had finally lurked between the alley ways of New York City, whether the inhabitants were ready for it or not.

"Um… play basketball? Buy you a car? Visit the girl he murdered?" Jason nudged her elbow as they turned the corner onto the sidewalk.

"Ugh… we already know who Emily is and baby Emily, he didn't murder them you asshole." She snapped before smacking his chest with the leather of her purse.

The two weeks that had passed since Troy's first basketball game flew passed yet felt as though it had been forever since they first kissed. Because the buildup had been so intense and excruciating, the flow of their relationship seemed effortless. The base of their friendship had only drawn them closer together. There had been no awkwardness or mention of Gabriella's confirmed discovery of his past fiancée. Of course, the thoughts loomed in the back of her mind like the towering skyscrapers above and she still racking to discover why Emily was dead. But for now, she was completely content with discussing what they would be having for dinner rather than the ghost of his past.

"I haven't ruled it out yet," Jason rubbed his khaki jacket at the impact site with a mocking smirk and turned to her, "Alright Montez, spill. What is Mr. Troy Murderer Bolton doing today?"

"Well if you're going to be rude about it..." Gabriella replied snottily and glanced both ways once they reached t he cross section of the street.

Suddenly, he stopped and took her shoulders in both of his large hands to spin her and face him, "Oh Gabriella, I'm truly going to die if you do not tell me what Troy is going to do today. Please, I beg of you!"

Gabriella couldn't control her giggles as she pushed off his chest and shivered into her jacket at his lack of touch once again, "He's going to tell Alicia about us."

The jest upon Jason's face quickly slipped away and his eyes widened. Immediately, any mockery had been cast away in the wind as he froze on the cracks of the sidewalk. Gabriella felt the change of air and averted her eyes to the speeding taxis that flew by. Slowly, Jason swallowed and dug his hands into the deep pockets of his dress pants. A step forward or not, the idea of Alicia and Troy finally severing any ties that had remained was unnerving Gabriella. Jason seemed to be on the same thinking wave length that she was on, for he was uncomfortable, edgy just as she had spoke the words. The breeze tossed at his messy mop, flicking away the dark bangs from his shallow eyes, "Wow… he's… wow…"

"I know," Gabriella whispered - the giddiness in her voice was slowly dissipating with the seriousness of the topic, "he told me before I left for work this morning."

Again, her coworker and friend shook his head in pure and utter disbelieve, "That's a little bit…"

"Huge." She breathed out, a puff of smoke condensing in front of her cherry lips.

"Disasterous would be a better word."

Nodding her head, Gabriella chewed on her lip before breathing, "I know."

She swallowed, for some it may not find this important at all. But Alicia and Troy had a special bond –one that she respected whether she liked the lawyer or not. To simply tell that she and Troy had taken their relationship to a new level would have upset Gabriella if the roles had been reversed. Of course, Alicia just thought of Troy as a fuck buddy and nothing more, so the blow would not be as deadly. But she would officially no longer be Troy's only attention. Teetering her weight between her feet, she avoided his gaze while asking, "So um… what do you think?"

Jason raised his shoulders, "Honestly Gabriella?" She lifted her head to meet his concerned stare, "I don't know if I should say that's awesome or tell you to sleep with one eye open. That girl is fierce."

Cocking her black eyebrow, Gabriella sent him an incredulous look, "Fierce?"

"You know what I mean. She has this look that like, lasers into you." He pointed to his eyes with his fore and middle fingers, mimicking the action of stabbing his irises.

Gabriella sighed and picked up her pace again, clicking her leather boots against the gum-stained sidewalk. Lengthening his stride to catch up, Jason quickly hurried until he was walking briskly next to her, "They haven't slept with each other in months Jase. I don't think she's going to care that much. She doesn't have the right to." Gabriella snapped sharply as she surveyed the street for the nearest bus stop, "Where the hell is…"

"You sound uneasy." Jason commented while reaching for her elbow to grasp.

"I may not like the girl," Gabriella explained while throwing her head around again, "but she's Troy's best friend. She pulls a lot of weight in his life."

Finally, she spotted the sign that hung above a crowd that congregated to weight for the public transportation system. Without waiting for him, Gabriella pulled away from Jason and began to make her way across the sidewalk. They would eventually have to part due to the locations of their apartments, but Gabriella wasn't in the mood to continue the apparent questioning of what was happening on the other side of town. She began to march without a goodbye before she heard the call of reassurance, "I think you're forgetting something Montez!"

Shooting her head back with curiosity furrowed in her brow, she tilted her chin at his words, "What would that be?"

"You pull a lot of weight in his life too." Jason reminded her while stepping backwards in the opposite direction, "Just remember that."

* * *

"What?" Alicia groaned with a horrified expression upon her sharp features, "Jenny's peanut butter cookies are _so _much better than Angie's chocolate chip!"

"No way." Troy snorted with a shake of his head as his eyes cast over the serenity of the frigid lake around, "Chocolate chip cookie dough was sent from the gods. I don't care how good Jenny's family recipe is, the classic always wins."

Central Park was surprisingly crowded for the chilly weather. Frost dripped over the narrow limbs of the trees and coated over the grass, but not enough to be considered measurable inches. There were a few scatters of joggers dressed in their second-skin spandex attempting to harness the outdoors for a few more days before they were contained to fitness centers. Couples strolled with their fingers laced together and eagerly pointed towards the nature with giddiness. Troy briefly felt a pang of disappointment that Gabriella wasn't there to spend the moment with him, but he remembered the task at hand and the ultimate goal in the end: to be able to be with her without keeping it a secret from Alicia. It wasn't that he was scared of her or trying to protect her, but it unnerved him to confess something so important to her when he had been inside her more times than any other girl besides Emily.

"You just have shitty taste." Alicia stuck her long tongue at him before swiveling her head around towards the body of water in the center of the path, "I feel like doing cartwheels."

"Like what?" His laughter bellowed through the billowing trees.

"Cartwheels! Or a handspring." She grinned cheekily and took a teetering start before her flat boots slipped on the glassy surface of the pavement, "oh shit!"

Troy snorted, reaching to grab her arm to save her from an embarrassing fall on her backside, and nudged the creamy plaid fabric of her coat, "You're fucking crazy."

"Maybe," she shrugged and leaned her neck backwards towards the grey sky, with her emerald eyes glistening with delight. The normally composed lawyer had a way of letting her guard down when she was around him, something Troy hoped would work to his advantage that day, "I should have never quit gymnastics in eighth grade."

Spotting a bench a few strides away, Troy nodded in the direction and led her towards the worn wood, "I thought you hated it." He sat down slowly and shifted his ceruleans to gaze up at her distant stare.

She kicked a rock until the clang against the metal leg echoed through the tranquil afternoon, "I loved it, at first."

Ironically, for the amount of time they had been so close, Alicia had never dug into why she had quit a sport she held so closely to her heart. In all honesty, it had never really come up in conversation and on the few occasions that it was brought to attention, she simply shrugged it away without continuation. But this time, Troy stole a glance in her direction to see her raw fingers running up and down her dark wash skinny jeans in recollection. Carefully, he gave a gentle motion of encouragement and rubbed his pinkening nose to create warmth against the nipping cold against his bronze skin. Alicia swallowed slowly and crossed her knock-off boots before letting out a long sigh.

"I started when I was four years old," Alicia began – the emerald in her eyes glittering like the frozen lake behind as she met his stare, "Gina was really into soccer – which made my dad ecstatic due to our Italian-ness – and Nicci could have been born with gills."

"So where did the flips come from?" As he asked, his finger mimicked the action one may perform on the floor in a leotard.

Alicia shot him a glare for interrupting, "Let me finish asshole."

"Sorry." Troy mumbled, his breath clouding in a puff of smoke.

"I was at my Nonna's when I knew it was what I wanted," The fluidity of her Italian accent rolled as she spoke of her grandmother. Her paled face suddenly resembled the gray sky above as she smiled fondly at the older woman, "We were visiting, I was four. The Olympics were on, and it was the tumbling. They were so perfect- powerful yet feminine. I was so in love that I whined and clung to my mother's leg until she promised to sign me up the next day. We went and bought this red leotard and a week later, I was signed up in Level One with the other beginners," there was a rush of pride on her cheeks, "the coach said I had incredible potential. I was going to be good."

Alicia didn't look at him as she spoke, instead she gazed into her past with unseeing eyes as they lingered upon the bare trees, "I quickly sped through Levels, but wasn't able to compete until I was six. Once I could though, was like a religion: practicing three times a week for three hours, competitions on the weekends, ripping through leotards and sore wrists. I loved it, I loved being a part of something and being _good_. I got praise all the time, whether it was from my family or the coaches or whatever. I absorbed the attention. It's what kept me going."

Troy nodded vigorously – he completely understood her passion and desire for the sport. He could recall countless hours devoted to shooting or running drills in the backyard with his father on top of the practices in the Albuquerque YMCA as young as five. Being elite only added to the addiction, the woos and swoons were only fuel to the raging fire of his love of basketball. Even as young as five, Troy had been fed and destined for greatness. He had experienced what she had , a connection he hadn't even known existed until now.

"They put me on the bars because of the strength in my arms and core," Alicia continued, folding her hands under her biceps that Troy was reflexively eying. However, he finally noted a slight bitterness in her tone as she spoke. The icy wind began to whip at the nape of his neck, almost inducing shivers down his spine, "I kept winning in the local competitions and moving up. Other coaches noticed and asked me to join their gyms, but I turned them down. My parents didn't have the money for it," she shook her head, "No matter how good I got, they wouldn't listen to me. I wanted to tumble. My coach didn't want to distract me with dancing though, they thought I should focus on the technicalities instead. When I was ten, they finally told me they were going to put me somewhere else."

"You got your wish." Troy commented with a warm smile that was no returned.

Her eyes turned sharp with glass edges of jade as they finally met his, "No, they put me on the fucking vault." She said with disgust.

"I was crushed at first, but my sisters told me to just get over it." she remained glued on him now, penetrating her thoughts to him with a raging force, "So I tried to, and everything was fine for another year. Great actually, I was winning locally still. The best in my gym…." Her voice trailed away.

"But…" Troy encouraged.

Alicia raised her chestnut eyebrows angrily, "_But _then I started to compete out of town."

Immediately, Troy made the connection, "New town means new competition." He spoke out loud, pulling at his fitted jeans before running a hand over his forehead.

"Erin Rassmanson," the hiss of her voice was almost frightening with the malicious scowl twitching at her lips, "She was AA."

"And that means…" He asked questioningly.

"All Around. She did everything." Alicia let out a cackle that was anything but funny, "she was a perfect blonde Barbie. No matter where it was, who the judges were, she won. It was always Erin and _then _Alicia. By then I didn't matter. I'd get this applause at first, then she'd get this thunder."

"So you stopped."

Alciia nodded, yet didn't dare to look away. Her childhood pains were surfacing, but no tears were shed. There was just anger; a chill that cracked over the surface of her hardened skin, "I told them I was quitting because they wouldn't put me on the floor, but I quit because of her."

"You loved it." He whispered with a strenuous shake.

She bit the cushion of her lip, "I was always second best Troy. And it hurt, so fucking much."

A sudden pang of guilt pulsated through his stomach. He didn't know where it surfaced from, but he knew where it ended: the announcement he had summoned her for. There was a sudden urge he had to comfort her, but he couldn't. Betrayal poisoned his blood stream as he reached for her, placing a tender hand onto the division of her sturdy wrist. Alicia's eyelashes flew open, desperation for some sort of reassurance that this would never happen again. The tiny dots of her pupils frantically searched the corners of his face. Nothing more did Troy want to hold her and promise that she would not be placed in that position again. But a lump formulated in the back of his throat, silencing him to muteness.

A lone crow flapped above them, a bird that had missed its flock to travel south for the winter. Troy glanced down once mumbling, "I'm sorry." For more reasons than intended.

* * *

**A/N: Not exactly a TG filled chapter, but I hope you liked it nonetheless. Thanks for reading as always!**


	20. Minute Twenty

**A/N: Thank you all so much for reading, as always. Just kinda as a response to the feedback I got last chapter, just remember that this story is not only about Troy and Gabriella's relationship, but it's also about his past and Gabriella's career. Not sure if it was because I mentioned it in an author's note, but just keep in the back of your mind that not every chapter is going to have Troy and Gabriella in it due to story purposes.**

**This is kind of a heads up, the next month might have spaced updates, or it may still be normal. With the end of the year coming to a close, I need to really focus on what feels like the million exams I'm taking. But then again, you might not notice the effect – I'm currently writing a lot on this story at the moment, so we'll see. But this is just in case suddenly I disappear for two weeks. Thanks for reading and your feedback, it really means a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

"If I was dinner," Gabriella mused to herself with her head buried into the frozen tundra of Lean Cuisines and left over lasagna inside her freezer, "what would I look like?"

Behind her, the hum of a news station flashing horrified images across the screen rang through the empty apartment. Night had fallen peacefully in the outside world, but within the blackness of the journalist's home, it seemed anything but settled. The atmosphere that swirled out of the open appliance was just as frigid bitter. Gabriella gripped the beaten handle upon the refrigerator tightly from the chill while sifting through the nutritional contents of each of her options for a meal that evening.

After returning from work, Gabriella's day had improved only the slightest. She had tossed her purse and briefcase into her room and hopped into a pair of black sweats and an oversized sweatshirt. From there, she attempted to busy herself by doing small housework duties: scrubbing the bathroom floor, vacuum clean in front of the television, dust the drapes. However, her hands could only allow to be pruned for so long. Forced to occupy herself in another way, she had pulled her laptop from her desk and planted herself in front of the television, watching the competition and attempted to engross herself with world events. Unfortunately, Brian Williams was not quite as attractive as the man that had consumed her thoughts, therefore she was stuck worrying once again how the discussion between best friends went.

Tapping her short nails against the side of the refrigerator, Gabriella frowned while mumbling, ""One of these days I'm gonna actually have food in this house…"

Although it took another few minutes to have a mental debate about whether she'd rather indulge in cheep health food or a rotting Italian meal, she settled on the microwavable dinner due to her distaste of Italians that day. Carefully, she unwrapped the plastic covering and placed the dinner into the microwave. Once she pressed the appropriate time and the hum of the machine droned, she glanced to her cell phone and frowned in disappointment. Troy promised to call her as soon as his practice had finished up at the high school. That was well over a half hour ago, and her little patience was beginning to wear thin. She wanted - no _needed_, to know what happened when he paid Alicia a visit earlier that day.

The microwave beeped, indicating her dinner was completed. Gabriella quickly crossed the kitchen and retrieved the steaming bowl of noodles before dragging her feet back over to the awaiting sofa. Pushing her laptop aside, her bare feet propped onto the coffee table. She rolled her eyes at the opposing journalist and his monotone speech of the public opinion on the involvement of foreign aid in the Caribbean. Each lonely bite taunted her; the squish between her teeth echoed annoyingly around the stillness.

No later than the moment she set down her empty plate, a rap of the door rang. Gabriella furrowed her eyebrows and cranked her body around to stare questioningly at the door. The odds of Chad banging to ask her for extra laundry detergent wasn't that likely due to Taylor's organization, therefore she had both a hope and a fairly good idea of who was on the other side. Standing up, her legs felt like lead from barely moving them in the past few hours before she made her way to the door. Confirming her suspicions in the peep hole, Gabriella's heart began to race nervously when she opened the door to reveal her guest, "Hey."

Smiling tiredly, Troy invited himself in, "Hey yourself." He greeted as Gabriella stepped backwards to allow him room. The door swung to a shut behind him; immediately his hands reached out to grab her skinny waist and bring her in for a soft kiss.

When their lips touched, a need bubbled through her veins. She was desperate for him, hungry after a long day of waiting. Gabriella gripped the nape of his neck tighter and deepened the kiss. Troy seemed to be on the same wavelength, for he pulled the small of her back closer to his groin with his forearm. Before she could request access into his mouth, however, Troy brought his forehead to rest against her as he drew lazy circles on her hips with his thumbs.

"I'm getting used to that." He whispered softly and pecked her lips once more before releasing her completely.

Still slightly breathless, Gabriella ran a shaky hand through her tresses as Troy walked in the direction of the tiny kitchen, "How was practice?" She asked nonchalantly, biting her tongue to keep from grilling him about the encounter with Alicia.

He shrugged, picking up on the way she was skirting around the inevitable conversation, "Practices before a game are always easy. They seemed to be focused."

"That's great." Gabriella smiled sincerely.

"Yeah, yeah it is." Slowly, he ran his palm over the back of the wooden chair, avoiding her gaze. Gabriella swallowed, finding his lingering frustrating. Her naturally curious personality was not helping to keep her calm, but she managed to silence the inquisitions that tasted like tar in her mouth. Troy glanced up at her, the azure of his irises powerful and pained, "Did you eat already?"

"I just finished." she nodded towards the empty plastic that rotted on the coffee table beneath the glowing light of a tampon commercial, "I can try to find you something if you want. There's like, nothing in this apartment."

"Weird, you not having food." Troy teased with a flash of his normal mockery. Gabriella inwardly let out a sigh of relief that he was still joking, proving that the end of the world had not occurred, "I stopped for a burger on the way over anyways."

"Don't tell your team you were having fast food. You're sort of a bad example." She giggled stiffly.

Snorting, Troy stepped forward to capture her in his grasp once again, "Fuck off, Montez." He murmured into her ear before pressing a gentle kiss beneath her jaw line.

The intricate tango of avoidance was becoming unbearable. She brought her head to rest beneath the smoothed curve of his chin and fluttered her eyes closed, "Troy." She whispered almost soundlessly, gripping to the edges of his blue shirt with desperation. Little more needed to be said, but it was clear of her intentions and what she was initiating with her beg. His chest rose and fell in a sigh as he unwound himself from her and gently took hold of her hand to lead her in the direction of the couch. He was silent as he fell down onto the cushions with a spring. Gabriella grabbed the remote and switched the news off – her attention turned completely to him.

"I um… I kinda don't know what to say." Troy confessed as he ran a hand through his spiky hair.

There was an unsettling lurch of Gabriella's stomach. He was upset - it was clear by the way he fidgeted with his hands and his eyes were an icy blue. Crossing her arms, she felt a guard veil over her body to be ready to spring into defense, "Just tell me the truth Troy. It's my job, I can handle it."

He rubbed his face until it was stained with a pink flush. The silence was deafening – haunting as he remained mute. Her senses were heightened; she heard him take short breaths and his powerful eyes lifted to penetrate into hers, "Don't worry about her, okay?"

The pang in her stomach turned into a jab. She looked down onto the fabric of the sofa and shook her head, unable to believe what she had always known was true, "So she told you she hated me? That's fucking priceless." Gabriella hissed with a fury within she didn't even know existed.

"Gabriel…" Troy attempted to reason, but instead Gabriella leapt to her feet and immediately crossed her arms in an angry huff.

"She's not your mother, all I've done is try to get on her fucking good side and she tells you you can't see me?"

"She didn't say anything, actually." Troy corrected with exasperation. He glanced upwards wearily to see if Gabriella would rebut, but was only greeted with her fumes, "I told her and she just sat there."

This seemed to irritate him more than if she had actually disapproved of the relationship. But Gabriella, fueled by her preconceptions of the lawyer, couldn't help but shake her head in loathing, "It's none of her business who you spend your time with. This isn't fair to you." She took a step forward to prove her stance and place in this argument. Troy didn't snap back as she expect though, instead he nodded vigorously and gripped torturously at his hair again.

"I know Gabriella. It's between us, not her." He agreed unexpectedly, "It's not like we haven't been hanging out for ages anyways."

It was bizarre that Troy was agreeing with her instead of defending his best friend, but Gabriella didn't stop to prove her point, "She's important to you… I don't want to cause a wedge but being a baby about this is stupid."

"She's not telling me not to see you." Troy promised, though Gabriella was anything but convinced, "she literally didn't say anything."

Gabriella sighed to harness her trembles, "So what _did _she do?" The venom in her voice bled dangerously.

Troy flopped onto the couch again in distress, rubbing his fingers against his temples wildly, "Her roommates… they were baking cookies and seeing who's was the best. It was crowded in her apartment, so we walked in Central Park," Gabriella let out a small sigh of relief that they hadn't been alone where temptation could have aroused. She nodded and placed a hand on the arm of the sofa as he continued stiffly, "We sat down and talked about some other stuff for a bit." His eyes shifted away, clearly uncomfortable with whatever they discussed. Gabriella was about to press before he continued, "She asked me why I had stopped by eventually and… I told her not to freak out about it, that it had been coming for awhile."

A flutter of appreciation flew through her lungs at the thought of Troy wanting what they were progressing into for more than a spur of the moment decision, "How was she?"

Troy shifted irritably, clearly this portion of the conversation was difficult for him to remember, "She stared at the ground for a long time and was just… silent. I couldn't fucking read her," he placed his head in his hands to shield himself from her, "Then she said like 'whatever makes you happy Troy' and pretended like I hadn't even said anything She started talking about the fucking cookies again and wouldn't let me say any more about it."

A side of her wanted to comfort him, but a side of her wanted to be selfish and tell him Alicia should have just grown up and find someone else to shag. The caring side won however, for she leaned forward with a gentle ring around her mocha eyes, "I'm sure I'm not exactly who she'd want you to be with."

Running his palms down his face, his eyes cast up to take in the sight of her once again with question, "What do you mean?"

Carefully, Gabriella sat on the edge of the furniture to keep from being imposing, "It's not exactly a secret that we're not best friends, Troy." She wasn't one to sugarcoat any situation, therefore found no reason to ignore the fact that the two women were far from making lunch dates and gossiping over the phone. He frowned, confirming his awareness of their relationship but kept his comments to himself, "She would probably rather Sharpay would be with you than me."

"No she wouldn't." His response was serious as opposed to her awkward joke, "She doesn't hate you Gabriella. Just like I know you don't hate her."

Gabriella sighed and trailed her fingers through her flowing hair, "Your right, I don't. But honestly Troy, I don't blame Alicia for being weirded out by us, but she has no right to tell you who you should and should not be with."

"She's not." Troy finally defended with his fists already into tight balls, "She's just pretending like I didn't tell her."

"Why? So she thinks if she stays quiet maybe you'll fuck he…"

"Gabriella!" His warn was more thunderous and ravenous than it had been previously. Eyes sharp and jagged as eagles, Troy shook his head and placed his knuckles onto the couch to leave an imprint, "We've been over this before. Whether you showed up or not, Alicia and I needed to stop. We would have to. You just gave me the incentive to get out of it earlier."

It wasn't her business, but once again the journalist within her was brewing. Lifting her eyes to meet his in the darkness, Gabriella felt the room suddenly escalade to overwhelming temperatures. The words that formed on her mouth tasted bitter, or the opposite, acidic as they jumped from her tongue. Before she could stop herself, the sentence poured out in a jumbled, "Have-you-fucked-with-her-since-you've-known-me?"

She cupped her mouth in horror at what had just been released. He was certain to last out his rage now, and Gabriella anticipated for it by searching the shadows that elongated over aged face. Never once did he falter though, instead he reached out to bridge the gap between them; his fingers didn't quite touch her flesh but they were close enough to vibrate a heat upon her skin, "The last time we did it was the night of your welcome party," the way he spoke was with power, yet care in case she might snap at him. Gabriella remained silent though, a sign for him to continue. His ceruleans pierced through her heart with intensity, "I had some… issues that night I didn't want to think about."

Her pulse raced and she inched forward with longing, her brain already cycling with hypothesizes and theories that needed to be answered, "Issues?" She barely breathed with her whisper.

Swallowing thickly, Troy nodded in confirmation, "Issues."

Neither said it, but Gabriella knew they were both thinking: _Emily_.

The air felt thick in the darkness, like a scalding summer day that lingered too long into the night. Looking anywhere but at him, Gabriella memorized the lines that crossed her palms as they sat folded in her lap. There weren't many awkward silences that passed between the two, but this most definitely was considered one. There was so much that could have been revealed in the fourteen seconds of vulnerability that passed, but Gabriella couldn't bring herself to ask the question that had plagued her since she discovered Emily's name. Finally, his fingers enclosed her wrist and forced her to finally meet his persuading stare once again.

"Look, don't worry about Alicia. She's a pain in the ass sometimes, but so are you." Troy gave a gentle snicker to prove that he no longer wanted to discuss this with her any longer, "I'm not gonna like, force you guys to be friends or whatever. Just do your best to be civil to her and I'll be happy."

"I think I can manage that." Gabriella replied softly before tossing cluster of coils over her shoulder.

Sending her a cheeky grin, Troy leaned over and kissed her cheek, "Good. Now come on." He pronounced in a happier mood as he stood up and held his hand out towards her.

Gabriella raised a black eyebrow with curiosity, "Where are we going?" She asked but slipped her fingers through his anyways and allowed herself to be brought to her bare feet.

"We're going on an adventure to see if you have any dessert in this goddamn place." Troy chuckled before dragging her back to the kitchen again.

* * *

"Daniel Adams! Mr. Adams if I could just have one moment of your time!"

Although it may have been Gabriella's dream job, there was a price to be a reporter that she hated: being the pest. She would have been tortured before admitting it, but in a way Alicia's negative views as a lawyer on the writers _could _be considered accurate, depending on the context. Certainly, she would never stoop herself as low as writing gossip about the latest Kate Gosselin scandal –but to find the truth, one had to hunt. Therefore, situations occasionally arose that would require her to prod and pry until she received a substantial answer. Some would believe it was an invasion of privacy, but Gabriella knew they were just as guilty watching CNN every night or plotting their seat onto the toilet with newsprint in their hands. It was indeed lucky that she was proud; otherwise others would have been cowering in a corner when a potential business crook told her to shove it up her pretty little ass when she requested a personal interview that afternoon.

A sharp nosed assistant turned to her in his expensive business suit that most likely cost more than her tiny apartment and all its contents, "Mr. Adams is making no comment on the matter." The man hissed; a shower of spit rained upon the olive surface of her face.

Gabriella didn't bother to hide her disgust as she wiped away the sticky saliva, "I _believe _Mr. Adams has a mind and mouth of his own that he could use." The cheekiness of Gabriella's tone was not encouraged in the field, but Frank wanted his story and made sure she would be the one assigned to it. After the weeks of being printed morning after morning with articles worthy of The Times itself, she could not afford to drag her feet empty handed.

Daniel Adams held fifty-one percent of shares in a company that molded the metal used in General Electric's machines. He was the heart and soul of the profitable organization after the founder, Charles Adams, tragically passed away of a heart attack two years previously. His son immediately stepped into power after being trained for years as the heir, whether he knew the game nights of Monopoly were actually strategy or not. Although the company was then distributed to forty-nine percent of the power among the shareholders, Daniel Adams was one of the richest men in the free world. This also automatically made him ruthless and manipulative as well.

The bulky man in the silver suit turned around with his brown eyes like toxins as he glared at the inspiring journalist. He sized her up, probably mentally calculating the threat of a five foot three twenty-three year old in a fist fight against one of his droogy bodyguards. Adams snickered, contorting his face that was already flattened unattractively to be even more puke-worthy, "When you're me, sweetheart, you don't need to talk to yourself."

Refraining from flipping the billionaire off, Gabriella shot him a sickly sweet smile before asking, "So then you won't mind if I quote you tomorrow morning The Tribute about how you slept with the your wife's sister _after _you hired three prostitutes as celebration for scamming 14.1 million dollars from the government?"

Hooked-nose friend growled and took a step away from the shiny limo back towards her, "You little bitch…"

"The truth hurts, doesn't it Mr. Adams?" Gabriella spun her tape recorder through the spaces of her fingers.

Daniel Adams, a professional in scandal, shook his head and waved his fingers for his driver to open the limousine's grand door. "Drop Miss Boylen off at East 84th and Park Avenue," he mumbled to the balded gentleman who hurried to the front of the vehicle before sneering at her once again, "You can quote this," he began as he slid in but stuck his face out to glare at Gabriella's impatience, "no comment and mind your own fucking business."

With that, the door slammed to a shut and pulled into the speeding traffic. Gabriella remained stationed in her spot, the wind blowing violently at her ebony waves as the car disappeared through the floods of taxis and commuters. Her jaw was set when she heard two sets of shoes, one being an obnoxious clicking, against the sidewalk, "The bastard is even more of an asswipe than I thought he was." Jason's voice echoed over the wailing sirens that composed of the soundtrack New York City held.

"Frank's going to be _pissed._" Rebecca sung against the gusts.

Finally, Gabriella turned around to see Jason attempting to snap a few more shots of the road in case Daniel Adams decided to return and Rebecca was tapping her heals irritably. Despite the insult that had been passed, a small grin curled onto her lips as she glanced between the two coworkers, "No he won't."

"Montez, we _need _this story." Rebecca stressed and pushed a strand of her blonde hair back into the bun that sat upon the top of her head, "Scratch that… _you _need this story. And you've just lost it in shiny black shoes."

Gabriella shrugged and dug her hands deeply into the pockets of her coat to keep them warm, "Weren't you paying attention of who was in the limo?" She asked incredulously, which then she received hesitant and questioning glances between the two, "Miss Victoria Boylen was in Mr. Adam's car. And, when you two thought I was playing solitaire this morning, I was making phone calls and finding out that Miss Boylen just so happens to be one of his mistresses. A twenty-eight year old spotlight loving one at that."

There was a Mexican fiesta that partied in her stomach when she caught the astonished gaze of her mentor standing with her jaw unhinged. Her mouth curved into a smile that screamed "take that bitch" louder than any words ever could. Jason, however, beamed just as brightly before stepping towards her and enveloping her into a tight hug, "Please explain to me how Emily died, because you are a fucking_ genius_ babe." He yelled while squeezing her shoulders with a clap once he had released her.

She wished she had the answer to that question, but now was not the time to dwell on Troy Bolton's past. Instead, she turned to Rebecca to see that her momentary irritation that the intern had been a step ahead of her wore off. The gray eyes were now narrowed – a hawk ready to swoop in for an unexpecting mouse, "You said East 84th and Park?" As she questioned, her hand fished through her knock off purse for her sunglasses.

"Girl's got some cash on her." Gabriella commented on the social wealth the upper east side of New York City held.

"She'll have a little more than that." Rebecca replied with a flip of her hair – not caring that it was stretching up and proving the action useless, "I'd bring out those Stuart Weizmans princess, we're headed to shower in money."

Rebecca then took off towards the side street to catch a cab. With her body trembling in anticipation, Gabriella turned to Jason who winked at her for encouragement, "What if I don't own any heels?"

Gabriella rolled her eyes before grabbing his forearm forcefully, "Come on princess, your chariot awaits."

* * *

"Are you leaving for the night, honey?"

Troy cranked his head out from the depths of his coat to take in the sight of the elderly receptionist beaming brightly at him, "Yeah, my last patient just left. And I need to go babysit a bunch of high schoolers." Troy informed her kindly and fished for his keys from his pocket. His neck was slightly achy from maneuvering around a thirty year old golfer who had back issues that should have been tended to by a chiropractor. The day had been long with little breaks between each session and Troy was eager to leave so he could curl up in bed after practice with the Warriors. Maybe, if he was lucky, she'd offer to give her assistance with a massage – preferably unclothed.

"Bless your soul for stepping up to help them." Barb swooned with her hand on her heart and her cherry-red nails glinting in the florescent lighting, "Don't work too hard though, alright?"

Grinning and removing his hand from buttoning up the jacket, he gave her a gentle wave of parting, "I'll do my best. Have a great night Barb!"

"You too Troy." She sent one final motherly smile before turning back to her desk to engross herself with paperwork once again.

He took two steps at a time as he head down the stairwell and jogged towards the front entrance of the building. With an acknowledgement to a pretty receptionist who practically fell out of her chair in delight as he passed, Troy briskly made his way towards the front doors that would ultimately lead to the busy city of New York once again. Immediately, he was greeted with a slam of the icy wind as a reminder of the dropping temperatures. He looked left, then right, then left again before j-walking across the busy street to reach the other side in order to catch the three o'clock bus.

Troy explored his pants pocket until he retrieved his cell phone and flipped it open. While dialing the numbers, he accidently bumped into another pedestrian and uttered an apology, though he barely cared as he reached an intersection to listen to the ringing sound on the opposite end of the phone. He impatiently waited and hurried along the street until he was finally greeted with an exuberated, "_Troy_!"

"Hey gorgeous, sorry I didn't answer before."He responded softly, attempting to remain private while passing the Americans on the street.

"_No, no, no… don't worry, don't worry_!" Gabriella hushed in what sounded like a pant. Even through the busyness of his own atmosphere, he could hear other people talking loudly behind her.

"Gabriella? You sound like your running." Troy chuckled – he had picked up the happiness in her voice, therefore assuming she was in no danger that would consist of sprinting for her life.

"_That's why I called… oh fuck off asshole_!" The end was directed to someone she was with. Although she couldn't see him, Troy raised his eyebrows curiously while glancing up to find that he had made it to the bus stop to wait with the other city dwellers who stared blankly ahead. He, on the other hand, was grinning like a little kid on Christmas because he was able to talk to the woman he was so infatuated with, "_Jason says hi by the way_."

Laughing once again, Troy leaned against the pole that marked his location and trailed his fingers down the side of the frozen surface, "Tell him hey back. You still working?"

"_That's why I called_," she repeated, sounding somewhat exasperated, "_you're going to hate me but I'm really, really, really, really sorry_."

"I'm gonna hate you? You must really be in for it now."

The angelic sound of her giggle caressed his earlobe until her tone finally turned fierce, "_You were supposed to catch that cab you idiot! Troy? Troy hello? Look I'm really sorry. We got on this huge lead with Daniel fucktard Adams today and we're on the East Side right now trying to find a damn cab and I can't come over tonight. This is huge, like career altering huge and Frank wants me to write this by tomorrow and I'm not letting Rebecca…_"

"Gabi, that's fucking incredible!" Troy announced proudly, ignoring the cough from the large woman planted on the bench at his foul language, "I'm so proud of you!"

"_You're not mad_?"

"Mad? Shit no. Gabriella, this is huge. Stay for as long as you need to. Just promise to call me later and let me know what happened." Troy rushed as he spoke due to his eagerness for her. Adrenaline was practically running through his own veins with triumph. At least one of them was living out their dream, and Troy couldn't be happier that she was finally receiving the recognition she deserved. He was certainly able to sacrifice one night in her arms if something had arisen this huge. The opportunity seemed to finally wiggle its way into the light, and he couldn't be more thrilled for her.

"_I will._" Gabriella promised just as the bus pulled to a stop. Troy looked up and was slammed with the tar flavored waft of the exhaust, "_I'm so sorry but I have to_…"

"Go. Make headlines. Be sexy. Write." Troy ordered with a brilliant smile.

"_You're the best_."

A laugh bellowed before stepping into the bus, "I do what I can. Make me proud." He ordered before snapping the phone to a shut with exhilaration.


	21. Minute Twenty One

Gabriella was the queen of deadlines.

In first grade art class, they had been assigned to make a snowflake out of clay for the holiday season. It was no more than a year after her father had passed away, and she had noticed that her mother's smile wasn't sparkling as brightly as it used to. She realized that she needed to rectify this and what better way to bring the twinkle to her mother's eye than giving her a handmade Christmas present? Being the shy girl she was at the time, Gabriella gave up spending her time coloring her signature onto the tables with finger paint and sculpted the image of a lopsided snowflake. Day in and day out, she slaved over the clay until her hands were rubbed orange and raw. She wanted perfection; therefore, it took several more hours to progress and before she knew it, Christmas was two days away. A frantic urge had bubbled in her stomach on the last day of classes before winter break – she wasn't going to make the timeline. However, Gabriella opted to skip the bus and stay two hours later to complete the project with excess glitter sprinkling over her shirt. After returning home and being scolded from her mother for not calling first, Gabriella lifted up the masterpiece on Christmas morning. Her mother completely forgot the lack of communication from two days before and squeezed her daughter tightly with tears in her eyes. It was the best present she had ever received, and Gabriella felt pride that she made the sculpture on time.

So when Gabriella stormed through the doors of the Tribute with a full tape recorder and a stack of messy notes tossing every which way that evening, she was unphased by Frank's direct orders to have a ground breaking story on his desk by midnight to run through the presses and be on the door steps of the New Yorkers the next morning.

Gabriella's fingers flew across the keyboard with each down stroke. Her coffee eyes were trimmed with a red lining due to the concentration as she had been fixated on the screen for three hours straight. It seemed as though every thought she jotted down was not complete enough, not executed in the proper way to create the article she had been concocting since the taxi back to the station. Her notes were scattered in a mass of papers across the surface of her desk and her ears were raw after she had placed the recorder to her lobe so many times.

The room was glowing due to the sun's set hours before. Half of the lights had been turned off to save electricity; therefore the shadows of the few people passing through the building made her jump every time. The few times that janitor's passed, she nearly fell out of her seat due to the focus and determination of success. Frank was out – she knew he would be back before her deadline to make edits before it slid through the copier into print. Peering around her monitor to take sight of the closed door that belonged to his office, Gabriella once again felt the pressure rest upon her shoulders to make the article perfect. She flexed her fingers before glancing down at the open notes and pushed her bangs back.

"'Boylen confessed to accepting money as leverage from Adams in order to hide the affair'…" Gabriella spoke out loud as the words appeared on the screen. She clicked wildly at the words that were spelled wrong in her haste and scanned the sentence with a frown, "Boylen also has more alcohol in her house than a speakeasy and sexy pumps that I would sell my soul for." She giggled at her witty comment to herself in her writing haze.

"I didn't know The Tribute became the peanut gallery."

"JESUS!" Gabriella screamed and slammed her hand against her heart in fright. Spinning her chair around, she panted in shock while staring in disbelief at the person leaning against the edge of her desk, "God Bolton, didn't anyone ever tell you to warn someone?"

Troy snickered with a curl of his oh-so-inviting lips. Breathless, Gabriella took steady breaths to keep from developing an early heart attack, "Sorry. I figured the slam of the door would be enough."

Once she maintained a regular heartbeat once again, Gabriella peered up with a quizzical expression, "What the hell are you doing here?" She asked - not quite ungrateful, for her voice rose with excitement that he had magically broken the barriers into the building so she was no longer talking to herself. Plus, Troy was much more fun to look at than any computer monitor, since the screen couldn't trickle his fingers down the side of her bicep as her significant other was doing at that moment.

"You sounded insanely excited and busy on the phone," Troy explained with a wicked smirk. Even in the half lighting, the red hue of the plaid shirt that draped over his broad shoulders gave an alluring appeal that momentarily distracted, "but when you're excited or whatever, you usually forget to do important things…"

"Are you mocking me?" Gabriella cocked her plucked eyebrow and crossed her arms. The blazer that covered her tiny waist fell to the way side as she crossed her legs.

"Absolutely not," that stupid grin crossed his face again, "I just wanted to make sure you didn't starve yourself, so I brought you…"

"FOOD!" He had no time to finish his sentence once he brought around the paper bag and the waft of grease drenched cheeseburgers and over cooked fries filled her nostrils. Immediately, Gabriella's eyes widened with delight and she practically hopped across the desk to snatch the bagged goods. She ignored his laughter while ripping the fast food from his hands and landed down onto her chair once again, inhaling the sweet scents of America's number one restaurant. Troy shook his head at her immaturity as she tore the bag away and placed the two burgers onto the table and sprinkled fries over a napkin.

"I swear to God, you're the only girl who gets excited when someone brings her pure grease." Troy chuckled before coming around to the other side of the messy desk and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Gabriella, responsively, leaned into his cheek and fluttered her eyelashes against the curve of his soft skin, "I'll pay for it when I'm forty and have kankles and all the other hot moms are doing Yogalates," she paused and glanced down at the food with a smile, "Thank you for thinking of me."

Troy kissed just below her temple and whispered gingerly into her ear, "Always."

He peeled his arms away from her while she popped a fry into her mouth. Glancing around until he spotted his line of interest, Troy reached over and grabbed what would be Jason's chair and scooted to the edge of the desk, careful not to knock the keyboard first, "How'd you get in here anyways?" Gabriella inquired while pealing back the damp paper to reveal the golden burger.

Shrugging, Troy pushed aside the bag and perched himself onto the corner of the wood, "I made friends with the lady at the counter the last time I was here," he reminded her of the picnic he brought to her what seemed like years ago, "_She _at least thought I was being nice by giving you something to eat," he stuck his tongue out before unwrapping his own burger and scrunching his nose in distaste, "Maybe I should have gotten Chinese."

Gabriella tapped his denim covered knee, "Stop being a girl and eat your food." She chopped with food still in her mouth, making Troy snort at her manly behavior.

"I'm starting to think junk food is your muse." He grinned cheekily, but Gabriella shook her head while crunching on a fry.

"Nope, Hello Kitty," she replied, a tingle of a blush adorened her cheeks. When Troy raised his eyebrow skeptically, Gabriella shrugged while feeling slightly vulnerable, "When I was little, I'd run around with this Hello Kitty notebook taking interviews from my family at Christmas and holidays. They'd usually shoo me away, but… my mom still has it at her house."

Troy kissed the tip of her nose, "Then we can thank a cat for your brilliance."

After wiping her lips free from excess grime, Gabriella gazed up at him through her lashes with gratitude and devotion, "Thank you, really Troy. This was really sweet of you, apart from the clogged arties." She reached out and laced their fingers together, kissing each of his knuckles. Seeming satisfied that he had done something right, Troy slid off the table and pushed away the chair he had been occupying a moment ago. He brushed off his fingers and slowly, his arms snaked around her to cage to her the desk so his head could stick through the window of her shoulder while peering at the words written upon the monitor. Furrowing his eyebrows, Gabriella watched as the piercing eyes quickly survived the work with concentration. She felt slightly exposed that her raw work was lying right before him.

"Fuck… this guy got around." He mumbled while picking up her hand and cupping his palm over her. Gabriella tried to ignore the electricity that jolted through her nerves as his forefinger pressed hers, ultimately causing the screen to scrowl down.

Gabriella nodded, which caused her black tresses to rub against his extended forearm, "Victoria was very eager to give us information once we told her she would be headlining tomorrow. Everyone has their price."

Troy turned his direction to the stack of papers. He pulled a photograph of a woman with golden waves that spilled over her back and make up as dark as her leather jacket, "That her?"

Her eyes lingered on the snapped picture Jason had taken, "Yep."

"She's hot." Troy commented with a smirk.

"She has vagina as wide as my thigh. Prostitute."

Gabriella grinned triumphantly when Troy winced as he had with his cheeseburger, "Not so hot. How the hell does she live on the East Side if she's selling her body?"

She shrugged, "Apparently Adams really wanted her to keep her mouth shut."

Troy immediately nodded in understanding, "Money talks huh?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Glancing at the clock to see that her deadline was approaching once again, she stiffened in his arms. Reflexively, Frank's office seemed more daunting than it had a minute before. Troy seemed to pick up on her uncomfortable shift, for he nuzzled his nose against the side of her face and murmured sweetly into her ear, "You want me to go so you can finish?"

Her hands slipped over his wrists as she shook her head, careful not to bump her head against his chin, "Not as long as you want to stay. It's probably going to be boring as hell."

Kissing the top of her head with a smile, Troy slowly ran his hands on the back of her shoulders with a gentle squeeze, "Never boring. I've got to return a call anyways, will I bug you?"

This, of all things, made Gabriella swivel around in her chair with a burning curiosity. Her first thought, whether it was fair or not, was his best friend's voicemail. From what Troy had told her, Alicia had gone back to her slightly normal self since the incident in central park. Gabriella herself hadn't seen her since the basketball game, though she really wasn't complaining about the lack Alicia time. From what Troy had informed her though, their topics of conversations completely omitted Gabriella. Neither brought her up, which Gabriella was certainly more than okay with. The last thing she wanted was being judged and gossiped about. But against her better judgment, she shook her head. "No, go ahead."

"I won't be long." He promised with a squeeze of her shoulder before disappearing towards the windows. Turning back to the computer to once again return to work, Gabriella couldn't help but listen for the sounds of his fingers typing away at the key pad. She pulled the stack of files towards her once again to drown herself in the luxurious life of Manhattan's girl, but couldn't help to strain her ears towards the brilliant silhouette that framed the twinkling horizon across the room.

Gabriella took in a sharp breath of air when she heard, "Hey Mama."

Not exactly who she had been expecting.

Assured, Gabriella felt a peace that it was indeed his mother instead of his best friend. She let out breath of relief before turning back to her notes once again to pull out the business card Victoria had slipped her before she, Jason and Rebecca squeezed from the high class apartment. She had had a look of exhilaration in the passion of her eyes – as someone who had been as desperate an uneducated as she; any source of the limelight was a thrill for her. Although most would have pressed their rights to keep their promiscuous occupation to a secret, Victoria openly explained, in vivid detail, of her affairs with Daniel Adams. Within a half hour of arriving at the hotel, Gabriella suddenly knew much more about how the scumbag liked to perform a sixty-nine than she ever really wanted to.

"Dad's still at practice? He's working them til eight? Damn, I don't even do that."

Gabriella smiled to herself as she caught brief hints of the conversation that transpired, remember that his father had been the coach for the high school he had attended to and still, as far as she knew, held that position. Her eyes caught sight of the clock, remembering that Albuquerque was in Mountain Time – two hours behind New York City. This meant Gabriella had two hours to write the second half of her ground breaking article, with edits and revisions. Two hours seemed like years away, yet just two simple rotations.

"Focus Gabriella." She coached herself while listening to the hypnotic sound of Troy's chuckle in the blackness behind her. How incredibly distracting.

"What? Oh, she's great... really great," the grin in his voice was evident, "I'm actually with her right now…"

Her heart skipped a beat, but she continued to type away, _Adams' promiscuous ways_…

"Ma…you asked me last time… Yeah I know, I told you that I'll try to find a time I can take off…I miss you too…"

Troy then trailed off into talk of conversation she found easier to ignore: the PT office, the Warriors, the cookies his mother had apparently made last Sunday. Concentration on the important matter at hand was less of a challenge, so she once again became consumed with the lies and temptation of Victoria Boylen's story. Time, once again, became lost until she finally felt someone plop beside her once again , tearing her midsentence away from her work. He ran a hand through his chestnut bangs with his skin glowing in the dimmed lighting, "Sorry about that." He apologized.

Running a hand down her face in exhaustion, Gabriella shrugged, "Mothers always come first."

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, "Not for an hour though."

Her face suddenly became snow white and her toes became numb. _An hour?!_

"Oh shit… oh shit oh shit! It's 10:51!" She practically screamed, frantically clicking away at the mouse as if the words would magically pop onto the screen. Yes, in the time that Troy had been chatting away, she had made a large dent, but the work was nowhere near ready. There were periods to be dotted, commas to be curled and dashes to be slashed. Frank was expecting a masterpiece in a little over an hour.

"Gab…" Troy tried to calm her down, but Gabriella immediately flew around with fire in her eyes.

"I have to get this done by eleven." She spilled, the words spilling out of her mouth in a jumbled mess of her panic.

By some miracle, Troy managed to remain calm. He gave her a reassuring trail of his fingers before lacing them through the flapping of her hands. These tiny hints of ease made Gabriella stop flailing and lock stares with the oceanic orbs. His gaze penetrated into the depths of her heart and she felt a cool solace into the multihued blue. She took in a sharp when he pushed back her flowing hair behind her ears with a gentle kiss, "You can do this, I know you can." He encouraged with a soft massage of the nape of her neck.

There was nothing more to say, no more time to waste. Gabriella sent him a small smile just after she pecked his lips, "No more distractions," she ordered and turned back towards the future that was blinking across the screen, "Just sit there and look pretty while I finish this."

"I'll do what I can." Troy promised, grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

Troy was in the hazy stage of sleep and consciousness. His body felt heavy as he was slumped against the desk and the even pace of fingertips clicking against the keyboard beside him lulled him into the limbo that had consumed him. The feeling in his fingertips and toes were lost and his limbs felt miles as they pooled onto the wood. Every inch of his skin felt like jello threatening to slither off of his body in a puddle upon the floor. He knew he wasn't fully into stage two or three yet, for images were flashing through his vision that caught him by surprise. After taking a psychology class at UCLA, he learned that dreams don't occur until the late hours of the night. But he was in another realm without the company of storylines, just vivid pictures that struck as quick as lightning and burned just as hot.

Somewhere in the distance, he knew his fist was digging into his nails into his palm. But no matter how far he carved, his nerves were numb to the pain. He was lost in a sea of murk, attempting to grasp on any sort of reality or finally slip to dreamland. Every so often, an involuntary twitch would ripple down his spine when his subconscious replayed the thundering sound that rattled his brain over and over again. In an instant, the sensation of metal walls crushing around him would disappear like smoke. Once again, he'd find himself in blackness with his stomach turning with bile and his eyes squeezing shut. He may have accepted the terms, but it didn't mean that the nightmares had disappeared since that fateful night.

His heartbeat suddenly thumped faster and with more intensity. The black hole he was sucked into was twisting, rotating in a dangerous cyclone. Slightly panicked, he mentally thrashed to regain some sense of the world. Narrowing into a pit with no end, his breath panted until he finally smashed into a spider web of glass, slicing his skin until suffocation….

"Jesus!" Troy breathed when he finally ripped his eyes opened into a blur of color. His senses immediately rushed back: the ache in his back from curling, the throb of his face pushed up against the wood, the gentle hum of the computer beside him. Momentarily, he was clueless to why he was lying on a table or where he was for that matter. All that filled his mind was the glass shattering beneath the rainwater in his memory.

"Troy?"

He blinked at the sound of a harmonic voice. Without straining too hard, Troy squinted towards the light to see the halo of black curls draping over his head – a shield for the cruelties of the outside world. After suddenly remembering he was sleeping upon the surface of the Tribute's desk, the recollection of _why _he was there came simultaneously. It was then that he felt the gentle graze of a thumb from just beneath the shadow of his side burn to the curl of his lip. A line he had known too well as a battle scar from the night that changed his life.

"You okay?" She asked, not quite with concern, but curiosity. It was appreciated; the last thing Troy wanted was for her to see him as weak.

The room was still dimmed, giving a mysterious blue glow from the computer screen onto his face. He didn't move from his position other than a short nod of his head, "What time is it?" He slurred, still slightly disoriented.

Gabriella continued to stroke his scar as if it were a fresh wound, "It's twelve thirty."

Troy's eyes strained to widen as he jerked his head upwards; the thoughts of his past quickly disappearing when he realized what the passage of midnight meant, "Did you finish?" He attempted to raise his neck, but Gabriella's palm kept him at a relaxed, lateral level.

No matter how hard she tried, a beam of a smile stretched across her face. It was contagious, for Troy felt his own grin curl as well when she spoke the words, "Frank's making his edits now."

There was no way of retraining him now, Troy immediately sat erect. Gabriella was caught slightly off guard at the sudden force of his nature. His hand reached up to snatch her palm before she could pull away and kissed between each of her knuckles before gingerly tugging on the skin that divided her forefinger and thumb. "I'm so," he whispered, his eyes blazing heat, "so proud of you."

The intensity of his voice was overwhelming. Gabriella leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his chin, in which case Troy shimmied his lips to press against her skin, "Thank you," she mumbled back, "After you passed out, it was finished pretty quickly." She dropped her gaze to the floor before returning it back to him, her fingers once again touching his cheek. This time, however, her thumb carefully stroked the bruises beneath his lashes. Troy felt slightly hypnotized in his already dreamy state – her touch was both therapeutic and intoxicating, "You ready to head out?"

A yawn stretched over his mouth as he stumbled out, "Fank dossnt nead you?"

Gabriella giggled while reaching down for her black purse, "What was that?"

"I asked if Frank needed you anymore."

Gabriella shook her head, her black curls flying everywhere, "Nope. He skimmed it over and mumbled something about doing a good job, then disappeared to the printers. They'll make quick edits and then send it through." She explained with pride and accomplishment. Troy noted the rosiness of her cheeks as she grinned brightly.

"Was he pissed I was here?" Troy asked.

Shrugging, Gabriella turned towards the humming computer and clicked into the exit screen, "I don't think he noticed you, actually. He was a bit more consumed with barking to see if I got it done. I'm surprised he didn't wake you up. He made a bit of an entrance when he slammed the door." Eying him curiously, she collected the sprawls of risqué photographs and notes that cluttered the edge of the table. Troy did his best not to draw attention to his abrupt wake up and the content of his limbo stage dream. An image of the shattering window once again flooded his mind, but he quickly shook away all threatening thoughts and locked them in the casket that was buried back in California.

To curb the conversation in a different direction, Troy took a careful step forward and reached for her neck to work his own magic against her skin. Gabriella sighed as she pressed her packet to her chest and closed her eyes, "You look exhausted." He murmured softly.

"I am." Gabriella whispered as he leaned his forehead down against hers, "I just wanna sleep."

Troy tilted his head so his lips could access her mouth much easier. The kiss was tender, longing as their mouths moved together as one. Briefly, he forgot about standing in the middle of her work place and slung his forearm around her lower back to bring her even closer yet. Gabriella let out a low whimper before slithering her arms around the back of his neck and lengthening their probing tongues. When they finally broke apart, Gabriella's lips hung angelically, as if she were remembering his kiss for a lonelier time, "Then sleep you will," he vowed and pressed his mouth against her temple, "Got everything?"

She nodded and hiked her purse further upon her shoulder. Troy reached his hand out for her to take; their fingers curled around each other as naturally as breathing. With Gabriella leading the way, they slowly weaved in an out of the desks until they reached the very edge of the room. Before exiting, however, Gabriella glanced backwards with a look a triumph a swell of greatness.

"You're gonna go far Gab," Troy promised, squeezing her hand, "I can feel it."

* * *

There was so much she wanted to ask him as she stroked his bare shoulder in the blackness of her bedroom. Little could be seen, but the even sound of his breath was enough to confirm her suspicions of being in a deep slumber. Every so often, the sound of his snores would interrupt the silence and make her jump, but he would remain motionless with the peaceful flutter of his eyelids and smoothed lines across his forehead. In those moments, she took the time to study each defining feature, each freckle and bump. Her fingers would carefully lift upwards and graze the mark she had really examined for the first time earlier that evening as he had laid across her desk.

Of course, her lack of sleep was not just caused by the spark of realization. Despite her complaints previously, she could hardly still her mind enough _to _sleep due to the excitement of the day. The idea that this story, this HUGE and ground breaking news had been conducted and written by her was enough to keep her up long into the late hours of the night. Tomorrow morning, once the papers were slapped against the doors of the awaiting apartments, her name and title would be upon the front page. Proof that her hard work and dedication was about to pay off, this was the article of a lifetime. The essence of her work, praised by all of Manhattan: it was a dream extracted straight from her fantasies. Therefore, z's were not an option when for once, reality was so much better.

Gabriella threaded her hand through his darkened hair, massaging plates of his scalp. Troy didn't stir. If it wasn't for the warm breath that spilled upon her face, she would be certain he was dead. Shuttering, she tried to rid the thought that he very well could have been.

Her fingers were drawn, once again, to the now invisible white line that ran down his face. It was a curious scar – not one that was lumpy or immediately jumped out when taken by first sight. In fact, Gabriella really hadn't noticed the spiderlike spread up until that evening. The vulnerability of his position cheek up and the dim lighting created a perfect equation to reveal what was normally hidden behind bronze skin. It hadn't been until Gabriella had returned from her midnight conference with Frank that she had noticed it.

It could have been anything: a tree branch scraped him when he was five, a fist fight that got too out of control over a girl in high school, a basketball injury. Anything. The gut feeling, however, made her believe it was of something much deeper. A connection to the dark May night that remained hidden in the ghost of his past.

It could have been a windshield shattering.

It could have been a knife digging.

It could have been an ex's nails slapping.

Leaning forward so her head pressed against his rising chest, Gabriella buried her face into his neck with a whirl of scenarios and conflicts that consumed her mind. Reflexively, Troy shifted at the change of weight and snuggled further into her before letting out a soft snore once again. She tilted upwards, once again being able to take in his profile in her gray surroundings for one last time with her whisper echoing off the walls.

"What the hell happened to you, Troy Bolton?"


	22. Minute Twenty Two

"Mom… you've asked me like five hundred times in the last month." Troy rolled his eyes while retrieving a beer from the refrigerator.

"_Stop being so dramatic, it has not been that many._" the sound of his mother's voice filled his ears through the receiver that was wedged between his shoulder and his cheek. Despite the distance of thousands and thousands of miles, Troy shook his head while popping over the top of his beer and taking a long drink. "_I'm sorry I miss my son._"

His heart melted at the words, and he glanced over his shoulder to be certain that his friends seated on the couch didn't hear his momentary weakness, "I miss you guys too." Troy promised as he placed his hand onto his counter. A roar from TV suddenly caught his attention as both Chad and Zeke leapt from their spots on the furniture with high fives. Troy tilted his head to see that the respective football team they were cheering for had just intercepted the ball from the opposing team. He shielded the phone from the obnoxious battle cries and turned away to be completely focused on his mother's persuading techniques and trying to dodge them. So far, he had managed to hold his ground in the past month since she first called that night at The Tribute, but fighting against one's mother was the hardest war anyone would ever fight. It ultimately ended in a loss.

"_Clearly not that much, since you won't even visit_."

"Guilt tripping will get you nowhere." Troy chuckled and fingered the side of the sweating bottle, "Mom, with work and classes, I just don't know if this is a good time for me to escape to Albuquerque."

"_Which is why you should just come down for the weekend anyways._" Lucille Bolton pointed out, "_You two could fly out on Friday and be back Monday ni…"_

"You two?" Troy asked, smirking wildly for he knew very well who she was referring to, "I didn't know I had a long lost sibling in New York you want to see too."

"_Don't be smart with me. You've been going on about this girl for how long and I haven't met her yet? I need approval."_

Troy smiled fondly at the thought of Gabriella, who was currently at the Danforth-McKessie residence engaging in a wine tasting party with Taylor and Sharpay. He glanced up at his guy friends again, who were beckoning him back over towards the living room and stabbing jaunts about being a 'momma's boy'. Shrugging, Troy turned away once again, "Gabriella's busy a lot Mom, it's not exactly like she can ask the world to stop having news for one day so she can take off to Albuquerque." He pointed out, grinning madly again at the success she had experienced since she had first moved here.

"_Tell her I think she works too much and needs a weekend away._" It wasn't the first time Lucille had been pushing to meet Troy's love interest – the past few weeks of phone conversations had consisted of her begging to meet the aspiring journalist. It was curious as to why she was pushing the idea so much, for when he had been dating Emily it had taken at least eight months before she had been introduced to the family. And at that time, his mother only invited her because Troy had become depressed without seeing her during the summer months of his sophomore year.

"The life of a reporter never stops, Mom."

"_Excuses, excuses_." She "tut"ed, "_Will you at least humor me and look at flight times tomorrow?"_

Laughing, Troy nodded even if she couldn't see him, "Only because I love you, I will look at them. But I gotta go…I have the guys over to watch the game…"

"_Alright sweetheart, but remember that you promised…"_

"I keep my promises," he reminded her before grabbing the neck of his bottle, "I'll talk to you later."

"_I love you Troy." _His mother cooed, bringing out a warm expression upon his face again.

"Love you too. Bye Mama." With that, Troy shut his phone and began to walk back towards his friend. When he flopped down between the two men, Chad raised his bushy eyebrows with a questioning expression while Zeke remained fixated on a commercial about brats.

"What the hell was that about?" His best friend asked almost rudely.

Shrugging, Troy turned to the television to be exposed to a racy ad for the newest lingerie at Victoria's Secret, "Mom being annoying Mom. She wants me to go to Albuquerque for a weekend. Apparently Dad's been driving her up the wall with the bathroom remolding shit last month and she needs 'emotional support' and shit." Troy brought his beer to his lips and tilted his head back to take in a long, well needed sip.

"Oh Coach…" Chad chuckled, referring to the high school days when both he and Troy were under the watchful eye of Jack Bolton during their glory days upon the court, "I'd like to see him try to put up tiles. You should go give him a hand, get out of the city for a bit. Unless you can't stand not fucking Gabs for three days." He nudged Troy's elbow teasingly.

Leaning forward, Troy placed his elbows onto his knees and stared distantly into the television, "That's the thing; she wants me to bring Gabriella with."

This caught the attention of both boys – their heads whirled around like a twister loose in Kansas, "Already?!"

Troy nodded, not quite sure if he should be offended that they didn't think they had the emotional connection to meet the parents yet or agreeing that it was too soon.

"Shit…" Chad swore with his lips against the lip of the bottle, "You guys have been going at it for what, two weeks?"

Rolling his eyes, Troy shook his head, "Like two months. But we danced around it for so much longer."

Indeed, although it was only a short amount of time that they had been officially together, Troy felt as though they had been dating for years. Because of their friendship status previously, they had already skipped over the awkward 'getting to know you' phase of their relationship. Sure, they could still be considered in the honeymoon phase due to the amount of sex they had in one week, but Troy felt something deeper with her than just physical attraction. It was raw, pure desire to just be around her than being inside her. He craved the moments he wasn't in her presence to be with her, and when he WAS with her, it was as though time both sped up and slowed down simultaneously.

"Maybe you should go," Zeke pondered out loud, "What have you got to lose?"

"His sanity? " Chad snorted, "Dude, maybe your mom wants you to finally tie the knot."

Troy's penetrating eyes shot up to meet Chad's ice bleeding from his irises. For a moment, Chad coiled back in horror – it was most likely that he had had a brief momentary amnesia to the last time Troy had requested a girl's hand, "I seriously doubt that." Troy hissed, attempted to push all bloody thoughts from his mind before any more information was revealed.

"Maybe you should just check flights." Zeke suggested, "Doesn't hurt to look, right?"

Troy sighed and leaned back against the couch again, "No, no it doesn't."

* * *

"So, Miss Journalist, what are you going to do about that pesky little bitch trying to sabotage your and Troy's relationship."

Gabriella looked up from her spot on the couch with furrowed eyebrows. Sharpay was draped over a chair, her limber legs swinging childishly over the arm of the furniture. She had a glass of sparkling olive wine in her clutches and a devious smile across her face. In the golden lighting, her pink top glittered sequence and her black jeans hug tightly to the tiny surface of her thighs. Her high heels had been kicked off hours before, revealing the kiss of pink polish brushed upon her toes. The diva slowly swished her drink around, clearly beginning in the early stages of tipsiness with her flushed cheeks and sinister expression.

"I didn't know someone was out to sabotage." Gabriella replied somewhat sarcastically, knowing exactly who the star was referring to and doing her best to keep from agreeing with her.

She drew a long sip of her red wine and smacked her lips softly. Taylor had come up with the wine tasting idea just for the sake of a girl's night out – she was pretty sure that an argument between her and Chad had arisen due to the desire to watch the football game and Taylor wanted to play hostess for their friends. Troy had kindly offered to take the boys in at his apartment while the girls spent some time alone together. And of course, there wasn't a better way to bond and bitch without getting drunk while doing it. Therefore, although Gabriella wouldn't have minded spending the night on Troy's couch cheering with the boys, she was in the Danforth-McKessie that evening. Which wasn't a punishment either – she could use a night with X chromosomes.

"Please, you know Moron Moretti is plotting so she can shove Troy's dick in her… I wonder if you can have female rape…" She pondered while her French manicured pointer finger pressed against her chin in thought. Gabriella rolled her eyes, but mentally smirked at the name Sharpay had dubbed his best friend.

"Be nice." Taylor instructed while plopping down beside Gabriella with her glass swishing in her hand, "I have champagne if you want that too…"

"Maybe the next glass." Gabriella smiled in thanks before turning back to the Broadway star, "Honestly Shar, I've seen Alicia once since Troy and I started seeing each other."

"And how many times has he seen her?" Gabriella was silent, which only induced a wicked smile from across the room, "That's what I thought."

"You make her sound like some sort of witch who seduced Troy… you forgot that it takes two to tango." Taylor pointed out and propped her bare feet up on the coffee table. Uncomfortably, Gabriella shifted her teal sweater and tucked her jean covered legs under her butt further. Neither girl seemed to notice her fidgets, however, for Taylor placed her glass down and waved her hand in explanation, "Alicia's not bad… I mean, if you were offered to be able to sleep with someone you weren't dating and were lonely, you'd probably take it too."

A part of her didn't want to hear about Troy's best friend, but the journalist side perked up as she turned her head towards her two friends, "Does she date a lot?"

Sharpay and Taylor exchanged glances – Sharpay's much more cynical, "She had causal things, nothing serious though."

"What about that one guy?" Sharpay snapped her fingers and pushed her head into her palm to wrack at her brain, "Uh… was it Brain? Bobby? Bryce? No! No, wait… his name was Ben."

Taylor cocked her eyebrows, "You mean the guy she brought to Zeke's birthday party?"

"Yeah! Blonde hair, fucking annoying." Sharpay glanced back into her head as though picturing the man, "Oh Benny…"

"His name was Richard."

Her pink lips formed opened, before she shrugged, "I knew that."

"She dated him for awhile," Taylor explained, turning back towards Gabriella with soft eyes, "He was a stock broker. Rich, slightly conceded… but cared about her and bought her everything she ever wished for. 'Course, being Alicia she didn't really need much," Sharpay shook her head as though she was pathetic for not taking advantage of the situation, "But Alicia seemed happy at the time."

Gabriella tilted her head with inquisition, "Why didn't she stay with him?"

Sharpay shot towards her, "Why would she? Troy fucking-hot-shot-of-the-century Bolton is boning her," Gabriella cleared her throat, making Sharpay roll her pale eyes, "Sorry, WAS boning her. She got the fucking best of both worlds: no attachment and someone eating her out every night. She could fuck every guy she wanted and still sucked Troy's dick if she wanted stability. The shitty thing is she didn't even like him… yet she hogged one of the sexiest guys in New York, the bitch."

Gabriella finally squirmed; she tried to forget about the days when Troy was sleeping with Alicia whenever he would tell her that he was spending the evening at her apartment or when they went out for lunch. She wasn't planning on being a possessive psycho-bitch of a girlfriend to tell him who he could and couldn't be friends with, but she wasn't going to lie and say she was happy when he asked if the two could reunite. Grudgingly, when Troy left, she pushed all thoughts of their promiscuous past into the back of her mind and attempted to remind herself that they had been friends way before she and Troy started their relationship. She wasn't planning on giving him the ultimatum, therefore she figured Troy and Alicia would always come as a package plan.

"Um… can we maybe not talk about Troy doing Alicia?" She requested softly, even her fore point was made clear.

Sharpay tossed her head back with wine on her lips and shrugged her bony shoulders, "You were the one who asked." She sung into her glass in a "know it all" voice that made Gabriella and Taylor shake their heads.

"So how are you and Troy lately?" Taylor asked kindly, making Gabriella blush with both pride and slight embarrassment. She wasn't the one who was usually being questioned – it made her slightly antsy to have the rolls reversed.

"We're um, we're great." Gabriella grinned, glancing down at her fingers wrapped tightly around her wine glass instead of Taylor.

"Great is code for fucking like mad rabbits." Sharpay snickered.

Gabriella, though fairly outspoken, was not exactly about to admit she and Troy spent more time together with their clothes off than on. It was true, though she didn't want to stare it with the blonde, she and Troy were at a passionate stage that she wasn't complaining about. But in her eyes, it was deeper as well. Yes, she had had boyfriends before, but nothing to the emotional magnitude that she felt with him. Even if their attraction had been fueled by her need to discover his sinister past, she was able to look past that and see him as he was – an incredible man who made her happy. Therefore, she shook her head, tossing her ebony waves over her shoulder in the process, "Not all of us live the life beneath the covers, Shar. We do have to work sometime."

"You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder and the vaginas get wetter." She said in a sing-song tone while reaching for the half-empty bottle upon the coffee table. Both Taylor and Gabriella looked at each other with confused expressions.

"No Shar, I didn't know they said that." Taylor injected while Gabriella giggled into her glass.

Shrugging, Sharpay slouched further into her chair and swung her feet once again, "Well they should."

* * *

From the days of sitting through human growth and development with an instructor who appeared to have a rubber mouth and talked with his mouth far too wide open, Gabriella had been taught that sex should be something beautiful and only engaged when a person truly met their soul mate. Abstinence was key, he had emphasized with showers of spit raining upon the diagrams of male gentiles settled on her desk. Of course, Gabriella hadn't exactly followed the abstinence advice. It didn't automatically make her a slut – she only been with another intimately that she had been dating or would have eventually dated. Her partners could be counted on one hand as well, due to her hard work at Boston University, she hadn't had time to have useless hook ups. That didn't, however, mean that she would enjoy it if the opportunity presented itself.

And the opportunity was flashing like neon lights in Troy Bolton's apartment that Thursday evening.

"Troy…" Gabriella moaned as she squeezed her legs tighter around his taught torso.

His hands dove into the knots of her curls, ripping at the seams of her white top and desperately trying to tear off the fabric. Carrying her to an available space on the counter, Troy shoved the mountains of papers that covered the surface with his forearm and threw her in their dust. With a zealous kiss that caused her toes to curl and her back to arch, Troy hovered above her with a furious thrust of his jean covered crotch against her burning core, "Fuck… the way you say my name…"

He was frantic with his actions which matched the intensity of his kisses. Gabriella wasn't far behind though, she was fingering the buttons that imprisoned his chest with both speed and precision that could only be practiced with years in front of a keyboard. Deepening the kiss with the probe of his tongue, Troy cupped the back of her head to protect her from the rock-hard counter beneath her, "Troy… Troy… Troy… Troy…" Gabriella whimpered between kisses and finally ran her hand down the sculpted muscles of his chest.

Troy chuckled throatily as he grabbed her butt muscles from behind, pulling her pelvis up to meet his dips, "And you said I wasn't good in the kitchen."

Gabriella, with her eyes still closed blissfully at the sensations rippling from her centre to her toes, laughed softly against his lips before he suckled dangerously on the curve of her neck, "You need to prove it."

He bit the edge of her lip, before sending the full force of his ceruleans upon her. Gabriella gasped at the intensity, along with the wandering of his fingers in not-so-innocent places on her body, "Come here, gorgeous." His mouth invaded hers once again while Gabriella reached for the metal of his belt buckle. She easily managed to unhook the clasp and began tugging it off. Troy groaned into her mouth, completely consumed with every inch of her…

… until a knock upon the door echoed throughout the apartment.

Instinctively, Gabriella turned her head, her hand gripping lethally upon his skull while Troy continued to nip onto her throat. At first, she believed he didn't hear the noise due to his continuation of gyrations against her hips. But again, a knock interrupted his ministrations when he finally growled, "Fuck it" in her ear.

"Troy," she whispered and brought her head back around simultaneously of lifting his so she could stare into his crystal blues. They were bright with fire, a flame fueled by desire. He attempted to dip his head back down in order to capture her lips again and distract her, but Gabriella dug her nails gently into his hair to stop him. Although there was nothing she wanted more than to flip the door off and tell him to continue, the responsible side was smiling encouragingly up at him, "you should get that."

Smirking wickedly down at her, Troy shook his head and lingered his lips just above hers, "There are many things I _should _do Gabriella Montez. It doesn't mean I'm going to."

"Troy." She warned in a harder voice, pushing upwards to nudge him.

Another rap on the door clearly indicated that the visitor wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. Cursing, Troy dropped his forehead so he was looking down the length of her body before meeting her eyes once again. With a giggle, Gabriella pushed up on her elbows and kissed him slowly in encouragement. This appeared problematic, however, for Troy attempted to deepen the kiss. Quickly, Gabriella pulled away and nodded in the direction of the threshold once again, "You're the death of me." He muttered before pecking her lips and jumping down from her body.

After looping his belt through his jeans and closing his bulging chest from the world once again, Troy ran a hand through his cropped bangs to fix the apparent sex-hair he was sporting that morning. Whirling around, he gave Gabriella a thumbs up as though requesting if he looked appropriate enough to open the door to the outside world. It took a few moments before she could mimic the answer – smoothing her own shirt out and zipping up the fly on her jeans took slightly longer than anticipated.

When she finally made herself more presentable, Gabriella slipped from the counter and nodded in confirmation that he could indeed open the door without a problem arising.

That was, of course, before she knew who was waiting on the other side.

"Alicia?!" Troy announced slightly flustered when the hinges flung open.

"Took you long enough, were you taking a shit or something?" The smooth voice of Alicia Moretti filled the silence in the apartment. Her strong back faced the wide-eyed Gabriella as she entered without an extended invitation. Frozen in her spot, Gabriella stared stupidly to see Troy was just as dumbstruck as she was.

"Uh… I was…"

"Don't tell me… I don't wanna…" She started before finally turning around – her jade eyes turning sharp as they landed upon Gabriella's slender frame with disgust.

Suddenly, she wished she would have kept her hair frazzled and underwear at her ankles.

Despite the daggers in her eyes, Alicia appeared dangerously beautiful with her lips curled and her body tense. Her hair was pulled half up and she was still dressed in clothes that were clearly meant for a court session earlier that day. No matter her irritation, however, Gabriella stood her ground and sidestepped away from the counter in order to fully reveal herself. It was difficult to believe that they had ever gotten along for a brief blurb of time – even if it was just a few hours whist celebrating Gabriella's published name. In the corner of her eye, she could see Troy maneuver his way into the space between the two girls in case a fight broke out.

"What are you doing here, Alicia?" Troy asked in slight accusation, running a hand through his hair with distress. Finally, Gabriella turned away from the lawyer and narrowed her eyes upon him. With his shoulders rigid and the lines on his face apparent, he suddenly appeared ten years older. As if he had experienced hell and then turned back from the grave to be punished.

In a way, Gabriella realized he had.

Finally, Alicia spun around towards Troy, who had his hand steadying himself on the counter. Crossing her arms, Gabriella squinted and suddenly saw a shimmer of the scar that tainted the perfection of his face in the white lighting from above, "I had a shitty day… we lost today. So I thought I could use a pick-me-up," she lifted a brown paper bag that Gabriella hadn't even realized she was holding previously – clearly there was some form of alcohol inside, "But I see you're busy doing… other things." The lethal color of her eyes sized Gabriella up. This made Gabriella's own irises become black.

This seemed to ignite a fire within. Troy fists balled and his eyes became a navy storm – an emotion Gabriella had never seen from him before. It was the first time she had _really _seen him angry, something that made her loosen and cringe away with fright, "We can get fucked up another night… I'm sorry I already had plans with _Gabriella_. No reason to get pissy about it." He emphasized her name to make up for Alicia's lack of reference to her.

This didn't settle well with Alicia, but she did her best to remain cool although she appeared as though she had been slapped in the face, "I'm not pissy… I'd just rather not walk in on my best friend when he's about to fuck the begeezes out of someone." She nodded to the apparent bulge between his legs. Gabriella didn't even blush in embarrassment at the profanity in reference to her.

"You weren't…" Troy started, but then apparently realized that he didn't want to say what was on his mind, "Never mind."

Alicia didn't want to take that, so her voice began to escalade when she snapped to him, "What Troy? I wasn't what?!"

"Just forget it."

"Just fucking tell me!" Alicia bent forward, ready in battle position to receive whatever blow he was about to send.

"You weren't acting like a bitch when that someone was you." Troy growled.

Even if Gabriella wasn't fond of the girl, her eyes widened in horror at the words had actually slipped from his throat. Throughout the argument, Alicia had put on the fighter face and hadn't held anything back. But at the rawness of what was just said, Gabriella watched as a flash of something foreign crossed the lawyer's face. It was a quick as lightning, a contort of her sharp features into what looked like raw pain. Her eyes glossed and her lip trembled and she appeared tiny, as though she had been stripped down to her twelve year old self. But as soon as it happened, it was gone. Gabriella tilted her head when Alicia's blazing eyes lifted to drill into the journalist, what looked like a plead bled through the corners of her tear ducts. There was a brief surge of pity for the woman, but it slipped away just as quickly as it rose.

Alicia cleared her throat and glared at her best friend again, "I didn't think you were complaining when I was sucking your cock, you fucker." She twirled on her heels in a hurricane manor and stomped towards the door.

Maybe the harshness of her words murdered the animalistic side within him or maybe he knew she was right, but Troy suddenly softened and jumped towards her with apology, "Alicia, I didn't mean…"

"That's exactly what you meant." Alicia hissed – her hard nose and cheekbones created long shadows over the paleness of her face. She gripped the door so hard her fingertips turned white, "Call me when you get your head out of your dick."

The door rattled when it was slammed shut, leaving the two occupants in the room with a haunting ghost of her anger. Gabriella remained dumbstruck behind the counter, her eyes wide and her heart racing. Troy, on the other hand, had both palms pressed against the door with his head bowed. His shoulders, once so powerful and threatening, trembled with strain. The perfection of his body was tainted with distress, self torture. The silence between them was both unnerving and frightening. Gabriella wasn't quite sure if she should leave him to his own thoughts or if she should say something. Ultimately, the argument ran deeper than Gabriella herself, but she felt slightly guilty for instigating what brewed between them in the short minutes that Alicia was there.

She decided it would be better if Troy was able to collect himself on his own, so she picked up her purse and carefully began to tiptoe towards the door. When she finally reached his rigid frame, Troy shifted the fury of his eyes in her direction while mumbling, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Sending him a warm smile, Gabriella shrugged her shoulders, "I've been through worse. I'm just surprised no one threw anything."

Chuckling sadly, Troy pressed his forehead against the back of his hands and squeezed his eyes shut, "I'm losing her, Gab. She was my rock, and I'm losing her."

Gabriella sympathized. Not with the sexual connection of course, but for the emotional bond the two shared while Troy was dealing with the death of his fiancée. Softly, she placed a hand upon his bicep in comfort and tried to send him a tiny smile, even if he was staring at his hands, "Maybe I should leave…"

"No." Troy firmly replied and turned back to her with heat in his eyes again, "I mean I understand if you want to… but I don't want you to…"

Nodding, Gabriella placed down her purse and shimmied her arms up the side of his built breast. In response, Troy squeezed her lower back with both devotion and love. She threaded her fingers through the back of his short haircut, drawing soothing circles around his scalp. Turning his head towards her, Troy buried his face into the curve of her neck and breathed in her scent. Nothing was said, but the intimacy of the hug was more than any words could explain. She pressed a kiss just beneath his chin and then reveled in the feel of his arms holding onto her for support, comfort, and protection…

Just as Alicia had from Emily.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to everyone still reading and reviewing!**


	23. Minute Twenty Three

**A/N: I know a lot of you said you're getting impatient and want to find out about Troy's past. I know it's been a long time coming, but you have to trust me on this. I wrote the story the way I have for a specific reason. It's coming, I promise you it's coming. But Troy's past will come out when Troy's past is ready to come out, I hope you guys can respect that and stick around to see when it does reveal itself.**

**Special thanks to HPincognito247 and Savannah O'Ryan for giving me the green light that I won't offend anyone in a specific scene of this chapter. Thanks again for reading, I hope you like this chapter.**

* * *

Long before Gabriella Montez swooped into his life, Alicia had always known that she would never be the sparkle in Troy Bolton's eye.

It had been too late when Alicia finally realized that his ex girlfriend was a threat to her fantasy of a white dress and Troy standing at the end of the long aisle. She had carelessly waved her hand after the first date that Troy had summoned her to discuss the possibility of having a significant in his life. He was young, with the world at his calloused fingertips and only focused on one other thing beside an orange sphere: sex. As a freshman in college, Alicia highly doubted that the rising star would wish for anything more than a wet bed he could return to after long nights on the red eye. Flirting with enough girls to consider him single, Alicia swore to herself that this infatuation with the blonde would fade like a bad hangover.

Of course, in hindsight, she should have realized that his petty little romance was indeed something more. They soon became inseparable – the times he wasn't sweating in the gym he was sweating his clothes off with the new flame. Though she hadn't learned until later that the two hadn't reached cohesion until the latter part of their relationship, Alicia continued to believe that he was just craving a weekly blow job on the off chance that he was in town instead of flying across the country. By the time summer came, the girls on the campus glared jealously as the couple strolling down the sidewalks with their hands laced and smiles decorating their cheeks. Alicia, returning to San Francisco for the break between freshman and sophomore year, received drunken phone calls from her best friend, whining of how he missed his precious girlfriend. She would then hang up the phone and escape to her backyard and chuck boulders into a pond to relieve the anger.

She specifically remembered one day, after returning to university in the fall, Troy had invited her and her new distraction of the week to a party with some other members of the basketball team. She felt slightly honored and dolled herself up – something that was unusual for her feminist behavior – in order to show the point guard what he was missing. The plan, like all plans to sabotage a relationship, turned to slap her in the face. The golden couple ended up slightly tipsy with love and escaped the party early to first connect on the physical side of their intimate relationship. This left Alicia heartbroken and with raccoon eyes due to her thickly painted eyeliner.

Embarrassedly, she would admit that at one brief point, she thought this terminal rejection would end. Midway through the basketball season, Troy suddenly showed up at her door after being bused back to his apartment in Indiana or North Carolina or wherever his previous game had been located instead of heading to his girlfriend's. When she had been spending time with his roommates on a Friday night, she had heard shouts and sobs from behind his bedroom door, before the bob of blond hair would storm out of the house without another word. Her hopes were raised when he confessed to her, after a half bottle of Mexican rum, that his attraction to her was fading like an unheard crowd.

It was this that made her so perplexed, and heartbroken, when Troy showed up on her doorstep a month later with tears in his eyes and a ring in his pocket. Alicia had ushered him inside and rubbed his back soothingly, cooing that the two pink lines could have been a mistake. He had shaken his head, fingering the diamond in his grasp with the idea that it was his fault his future had crashed to a stop. She had hugged him tightly, letting him cry into her shoulder before he stood up and marched to the mother of his child's residence with a feigned smile and bitter happiness as he went down upon one knee.

At that moment, Alicia realized he would never be hers.

The years after he escaped Los Angeles were filled with clouds and a sixth sense that weaved between the best friends. Though he had been supportive through the ups and downs of her law career, Troy had never made an ultimate sacrifice and sat in the audience through one of her cases. It stabbed Alicia ruthlessly; every time she requested him to come, he declined with an abrupt shake of his head and a drop of the subject. His heart had been shattered by too many memories that would suck him back to the reminder of the cruelties of the world.

If he really loved her, he would have endured.

Yes, he had proved intimacy more times than any other man had after the final dirt had been poured upon her grave that May night. But she wasn't stupid enough to believe that his kisses lacked desire – his touches repressed the fireworks. When he looked upon her, there was no smile saved just for her or light in his eyes that glistened just before he reached the climax of his pleasure. He worked through the motions; she was there because she offered herself to him –not because she was who he wanted. No matter what happened, she would always be placed in second.

And ultimately, Alicia could not stand to be in second place for much longer.

* * *

"If I were you, I would have fucking ripped her face off."

Wiping her mouth free of excess lettuce, Gabriella shook her head while chopping upon her sandwich. She swallowed, swishing her spit around her mouth in order to clean her teeth of any extra food, "It's not that simple, Jase."

"How is it not that simple? She's fucking crying because she can't blow your boyfriend anymore. Frankly, I'd be a bit pissed off if I were about to screw Troy Bolton in the middle of his kitchen and she came barging in." Jason said before reaching for his can of soda to take a long sip, "You gonna eat that?" He pointed his fork towards a container holding chocolate pudding. Rolling her eyes, Gabriella pushed the plastic forward to her now eager friend.

"Wow, I didn't know you wanted my boyfriend so much. I'll be sure to tell Troy to give you a call if he ever decides to swing the other way." She smirked before licking her fingers clean of the turkey she had packed from home.

Jason shook his head, "You knew what I meant." With that, he stabbed the cover of the pudding open with the back of his plastic fork and took a large scoop into his mouth.

They were huddled in front of Gabriella's computer on lunch – her favorite time of the day. Due to the busyness of his schedule the day before, Gabriella hadn't been able to fill in Jason about the argument that had transpired between Troy and Alicia two days ago. That night had been a whirlwind of emotions from both parties, and even if she had been hesitant, she had stayed the night just because she was certain that Troy needed company to take his mind off of his best friend. He hadn't asked, of course, but she could tell by the unsteady trembles of his hands while he tried to cook her noodles from the cabinets. It was clear that divisions of the dynamic duo took a toll on him. And, although she bitterly admitted it, she would rather see the two make amends than Troy be upset over something as petty as what had occurred.

Gabriella sighed and stared blankly down at her sandwich, "I'm sure I would have been a little pissed off if I walked in and my best friend had a boner and was trying to get me to leave so he could fuck."

Shaking his black mop, Jason turn to her, "You give that bitch too much credit for a lawyer, Montez. She's got a problem with you cuz you stole her entertainment away from her."

She let out a dry laugh before tapping her nails impatiently against the wooden desk, "You're starting to sound like Sharpay." She said with her dark eyes narrowed slightly.

Jason, who was now placing his feet upon her work place and stretching back to connect his hands behind his head, shrugged and stared distantly at the ceiling, "Maybe jealous Barbie's learned something at rich people's school. She and I seem to think in parallels when it comes to the best friend." He wiggled his caterpillar like eyebrows suggestively. Gabriella smacked his chest – not even sure what for – and began to collect her garbage in order to throw away.

"You finished with this stuff?" Gabriella lifted the pudding with raised eyebrows. As if his career depended upon it, Jason jumped up to retrieve the carton with a scowl on his lips.

"Don't you fucking touch my pudding." He hissed, almost spilling the brown muck onto his white shirt.

Gabriella snorted, "Excuse me, _your _pudding?"

Jason flipped her off in response.

"Babe? Can you throw this away too?" Jason waved a surrender flag in the form of a dirty napkin with a smirk upon his lips. Grudgingly, she swiped it from his grasp and added it to the Mountain of Lunch Garbage that was piled in her tiny hands. Before she left, she stuck her tongue out at him, which only earned her a trip from his ankle when he shifted to block her exit. She scowled at him before finally kicking his shins to force his legs back down.

She apologized to her coworkers as she bumped into their shoulders. Although she was climbing the latter of success through the journalism community and with her boss, she was still just a lowly intern who they didn't give a rat's ass about. Winding through the different desks and their busy owners, Gabriella finally managed to make it to the trash can next to the printer and threw the stack as though she were the infamous Troy Bolton herself. She wiped her grimy hands on the black fabric of her pants and crossed her arms, taking sight of the booked writers around her when once specific voice filled her ears.

Rebecca's hard tone was unmistakable as she rounded the corner in her pencil skirt and a random graphic artist at her side, "…I heard him talking on the phone this morning. It could be from anyone… The Times, The Herald…who knows, maybe even Wall Street…"

With her sharp, gray eyes, Rebecca turned and snapped her fingers once her eyes landed upon the intern, "Montez! I've been looking for you everywhere!"

Gabriella rolled her eyes –clearly she had hunted high and low if she was gossiping with a coworker, "What's up Rebecca?"

The blonde pointed her manicured nails over her shoulder, "Frank wants to see you in his office. While you're getting his coffee, can you pick me up a mocha? I have a killer headache." She complained while rubbing her forehead painfully.

Balling her fists to refrain from tugging the hairs from her neatly tied bun, Gabriella grimaced as she turned on her heels, "You said his office?" She hissed between her teeth, and when Rebecca made no response, she assumed that was a yes and trudged off towards the looming door down the stretch of desks. After knocking twice and pressing her ear against the wood to hear for life inside, a grunt vibrated against her lobe and she took that as enough response to request her entrance. With a quick glance back at her work space to see Jason was now indulged in a stimulating game of solitaire, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Seated in the large and squishy chair fit for a king was her obese boss, shoving his face with a burger that probably weighed as much as she did. The black grease that hugged his upper lip was almost the same color of his vagina part. He looked up when she slowly closed the door behind her, silencing the two from the ringing phones and typing fingers from the floor. The yellow blinds of the window leading to the news room were casting a filtered view, however. Even if she couldn't hear them anymore, she could still see their work. Gabriella tried to push aside the thought of the number of times Frank had probably spied on her and Jason playing pinball or having food fights at her desk.

"Um… Rebecca said you wanted to see me?" Gabriella more questioned than stated as she lingered awkwardly with her hands closed around the golden knob behind her.

"Yah," a drool of ketchup pooled on the side of her mouth as he waved her inside and chopped on his burger, "you're late."

She did her absolute best not to point fingers in the direction that would end up with a rumor about her sneaking Troy every night and humping wildly on Frank's desk after hours, "Sorry," Gabriella apologized while smoothing out the wrinkles on her red blouse, "but I'm here now."

Frank wiped his mouth with a filthy napkin and shifted his black eyes on her once again, "Do you think you can handle not playing Chutes and Ladders with Cross tomorrow?"

Her heart pitter pattered unevenly – a reaction that was becoming habit every time she was offered an assignment. Ignoring the insult about how she passed her time each day, Gabriella nodded vigorously with her ponytail rubbing wildly against the door behind her, "Yes." She responded immediately with too much eagerness.

Frank's sausage fingers picked up a manila folder that sat idly on the corner of his crowded desk and tossed it in her direction, "Douglas' trial is tomorrow. You know, accused killer who attacked those who girls from NYU," he waved his hand, a golden band upon his ring finger, "You want it?"

She was perplexed as to why he hadn't handed the folder to her mentor instead, "Of course… Rebecca and I…"

Frank placed his elbows on the table and shook his head, his eyes closing in the process, "No, no… I mean do YOU want it."

Her heart froze and she stared doe-eyed at her boss as though he had just spoken Chinese, "You mean…"

What he was suggesting was groundbreaking. Yes, she had written reports and articles on her own before, but this entire project would be hers. Apart from the photographer assigned, she would collect the notes and type out the article independently. The interviews and direction would be orchestrated by her; she would be completely on her own in this assignment. In a way, it was scary. If something happened to go wrong or fall to pieces, she would have no one else to blame and would be punished for it. But on the other hand, if it was a successful story – she would receive the full credit for it. Gabriella gripped the doorknob until her fingertips turned white, and with pure excitement and pride. She grinned from ear to ear.

"If you mess this up," Frank warned with his eyes narrowed, "it's back to the training wheels."

Shaking her curls, Gabriella beamed brightly, "I won't mess this up. You can count on me."

* * *

Surprisingly, when Troy knocked on the apartment door that evening, he was greeted with a bright smile from the tiny girl standing behind it.

"Hey Troy!" Jenny greeted, her short body wrapped up in sweats and her blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail with excess strands of hair falling from her bangs. Troy looked at her and was reminded of a fifteen year old instead of a twenty-three year old post-graduate.

Awkwardly, Troy scratched the back of his neck and glanced over his shoulder to see if Alicia was hiding in the unknown with a pistol ready and aimed. Once satisfied that Jenny was just ignorant to the fight that occurred two nights previously, Troy sent a wry smile and dung his hands into the deep holes of his Nike sweatpants. Even if snow had fallen in New York City, he was only dressed in a gray sweatshirt and his gym bag slung over his shoulder from just stepping off of the bus a few minutes before. His hood was popped, shielding him from the flakes and cruelties of the world. With inquisitive eyes, Troy placed his hand on the threshold and turned back towards the little girl, "Hey Jen… is she home?"

That was a stupid question – he already knew the answer. Eager to have company, Jenny pushed the door open further for him to enter. Sending her a warm grin, Troy stepped inside the apartment and was immediately greeted with the soft hum on the television playing in the distance. Two of the doors were closed to the world, one of them being the room he knew oh so well. The white lights from above shined down upon his face, causing long shadows to draw over his chin and chest.

"Maybe you can get her to come from that room, she hasn't even come out to pee in hours." Jenny candidly stated, walking over to the kitchen and pulling her rubber gloves on to return to the dishes she was washing.

Fear rushed through his stomach of actually confronting her, "She's got a pretty big case tomorrow." he commented, hiking the bag on his shoulder higher and glancing towards the bedroom once again, "The rest of you guys in?"

Jenny shook her head, bubbles floated from the dirty water, "Elizabeth is out with her new boy. You should see him, Troy… he has the bluest eyes and the whitest smile." She giggled like a child while swooning over the man. Troy tried not to raise his eyebrows in a sardonic matter – he could honestly say he didn't give a rat's ass if the girl with black hair had a boyfriend worthy of banging or not.

"What about Angie?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder to see that the appropriate bedroom door was closed tightly.

Lifting her covered hand to wave, water splashed all over the front of Jenny's periwinkle apron, "She had a killer test a couple days ago. She got insanely drunk last night and has been sleeping off her hangover all day."

Reflexively, his eyes shifted towards the clock to see it was past eight. Must have been some hangover.

Sighing, he knew that he couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. A part of him wanted to sprint from the apartment with his hands raised and a white flag waving. The last thing he wanted to put both of them through was this conversation, especially on the eve of one of the biggest cases of her career. But the past two days had been unbearable, and he needed to make amends and put this behind both of them in order to move on. He had called Gabriella hours before to tell her of his motives, but it had gone straight to the voicemail and he hadn't bothered to leave a message. It was most likely that she had been sucked into a story and didn't want to be bothered while staying late at The Tribute. That was fine with him, for now he had an opportunity to talk to his best friend.

The noise of squeaking hinges woke him from his thoughts along with the sound of, "Jesus Jen… do you _ever _leave the kit…"

Alicia's voice suddenly caught when Troy turned around and locked eyes with her. Her mouth was hung stupidly and her bright, emerald orbs shined owl eyed. Her flexible body, covered in sweats, was rigid as she fully took him in with an unreadable expression other than shock. Uncomfortable with her scrutiny, Troy ran a hand through his short hair and peered up to see she hadn't moved from her spot. He wasn't quite sure if the lack of her lashing out upon him was a good thing or could be potentially a problem. She hadn't sliced his balls off yet, so he took that as a plus for him.

When Alicia seemed to recompose herself enough to close her mouth, she crossed her arms and sent the full force of her jade irises upon him, "What the fuck are you doing here, Bolton?"

Well, at least she hadn't physically produced her anger.

At the sink, Jenny looked between the two as if she had never seen them before, "Alicia? What's…"

"Can we talk?" Troy asked in a gentle, nonthreatening tone. He glanced behind her and added, "Unless you're busy with the trial…"

She stared at him for a long moment; Troy figured weighing her options and the pros of actually having a conversation with him. In the time of deliberation, he turned to Jenny with pleading eyes. The blond was nonresponsive; however, she seemed to be completely surprised by the distribution between the two friends. Slowly, Alicia shrugged into her sweatshirt and turned on her heels, apparently making her decision. Pressing his forehead to the heel of his palm, Troy closed his eyes and let out a groan of frustration. At least he could say he tried if she screamed at him days later when they finally acknowledged each other again.

He was about to leave, however, the shimmer of gray blob from the direction of her room caught his attention. He cranked his head around and felt a rush of relief wash over his skin: she had left the door wide open.

Nodding to her roommate, Troy caught sight of the sympathetic look the tiny girl sent him, as though she was wishing him luck. He was certain that he would need it when he finally crossed the large living room and entered her chambers. Gently, he closed the door behind him and silenced the clanging of dishes and the mumbles of the television. He spun around quickly to find Alicia sprawled over the comforter covering her bed with her ponytail flopped to the side of her body. Eyes staring the blankly at the ceiling, she placed her hands on top of her head as if he wasn't there.

"How many ways can you kill a person?" She asked candidly, which made Troy's eyes bug in fright. Reflexively, he glanced over the cool blues and greens that decorated the mirrors and walls to see if she had a lurking weapon waiting for him.

"What the hell…?"

"Charles Douglas fucking tied one student from NYU in a shower after drugging her in the hotel bar. There were cigarette burn marks over her right breast and what looked like a fireplace poker etched cross on her abdomen stretching from here, to here," she placed one hand beneath her chest and the other right above her crotch, "The ropes he used cut a quarter of an inch into her wrists. He raped her with a bar of soap. Apparently he wanted to purify her."

With his eyes growing wide in horror, Troy felt his stomach turn in pure disgust. Obviously, the case had been covered by the news a year before when the girl went missing, but the media hadn't seemed to have the brutal details that Alicia was sharing with him. It was then that he caught sight of a manila folder labeled "CD" on the cover in tiny letters, "Jesus…"

Alicia never turned to see Troy blanching across the room, "A month later, after the cops search that room to find any set of prints, another call comes from across town. It's an owner of a diner in Brooklyn, crying because he walked into work that morning to find another NYU girl hanging from the ceiling with two stabs in her torso to form, again, another cross. Again, no prints. But the police managed to find a single page of the Bible lying on the floor with a pen. Apparently the fucker forgot to clean up the dirty work, and they were able to track him down thanks to the hotel name on the pen."

Finally, Alicia turned to him with softened eyes that matched the color upon her bedspread. With her hair pulled behind her head and the bruises that curled beneath her lashes, she looked ten years older. Troy swallowed and took a step forward, placing a peaceful hand on the bed that he had slept in more times than he could remember, "Alicia…"

"You know it's funny," she cut him off, her eyes twinkling up at him, "people are being slaughtered by psychos and I'm getting pissed off that my best friend can't keep it in his pants."

He knew she hadn't meant to be accusatory when she said it. It was as though that was all he needed to be sure that she hadn't wanted to argue any longer. Troy finally sat down on the mattress, his body springing a little as he did so, "I'm not sorry." He said simply when his hand reached into her thick hair to draw easy circles around her scalp.

Alicia shrugged, "Neither am I."

They were silent for a long moment while Alicia turned to her side and squeezed her eyes shut. Troy continued with his ministrations, his mind lost in a mess of his life. Every so often, he would take a glance at the mahogany wood of her dresser or the shine of the New York skyline from the filter of her turquoise shades. Finally, after a long moment, Troy looked down at her pale face and ran his thumb over her cheek as if it was the most natural thing in the universe.

"What's happening to us, Troy?" Alicia whispered as if speaking the words of their fall out loud would inevitably lead to their demise.

As she maneuvered her head onto his thigh, Troy let out a breath of uncertainty. In his grasp, she seemed to fragile compared to her normally hard personality. It frightened him, he couldn't deny this. The sense of their bond breaking was like a looming shadow over them. Even in the comfort of the calm room, a storm was brewing. It was unsettling and kept Troy on edge while he stared distantly into space, trying to page through the past year of their lives where the string of their friendship began to fry. His movements on her scalp were supposed to be soothing, but instead they were jerky with fear. Alicia sensed this; by the way she looked up at him with hopeful eyes, begging for him to reassure her they weren't crumbling at the edges.

But Troy merely shook his head and replied with a sorrowful, "I don't know."


	24. Minute Twenty Four

**A/N: Those of you who talked about about not having a lot of Troy and Gabriella action in the last chapter, I apologize because probably won't like this one very much either. But, as I stated in my previous authors notes, you have to remember that the storyline of Troy's past is just as important as the storyline of Troy and Gabriella. I wrote this in a way that would be more like a book instead of a fluffy fanfiction because I wanted to challenge myself into not basing it upon hormones and wanting to get into each other pants. There will be moments in the next couple chapters that you guys might like more, but these few are instrumental to where the rest of the story is going, so I just hope you hang tight. Thanks for trusting me!**

**Special thanks to HPincognito247, who has written Gabriella as a lawyer so many times she practically owns it and made sure that my courtroom vocab didn't sound like some lame TV show. If you don't read her stuff, close your window and go read it.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter -it's fairly jumpy between scenes, but it should make sense. Thanks for your reviews! They mean the world.**

* * *

"I'm scared." Gabriella confessed as she stared blankly down upon the table where the contents of a black camera lay.

An arm slung around her shoulder – a comforting one that gave her a tight squeeze when she looked away from his warm scare, "I would be concerned if you weren't." Jason encouraged softly in her ear.

The room was dark due to the early hour of the morning. An eerie glow was filtering through the newsroom into the copy room, where she was currently standing in. Everything about the day had given off a looming vibe starting with her eyes fluttering open in the darkness. The way she crawled out of Troy's arms and tip toed towards the bathroom in complete silence was enough to unnerve her. She was petrified after she had stripped to take a shower when two hands curled around her taught stomach and held her close. He gazed into her eyes through the reflection the mirror provided. Bare-chested, Troy had kissed her temple and promised her that she would be able to complete the assignment without any slip ups or mistakes. He joined her in the shower where he attempted to caress and smooth her worries away, but they hadn't disappeared when she drank the coffee he made and left the apartment – Troy calling out to wish her luck at Douglas's case. It hadn't been until she stepped onto the bus that she realized she had never told him whose case it was.

Jason had brought her a choice of a donut or a container of raspberry yogurt when he strolled into the office that morning, Gabriella choosing neither. He had tried to calm her down with his witty jokes that usually riled her up or at least drew a smile from her lips, but she was too busy bustling around her workspace being sure that her recorder and notepad were secured in a bag that she would not misplace. Her research, which had been taken yesterday afternoon and evening, sat in binders under her desk. She was more than ready for battle.

Of course, apart from the fact that she could barely walk in her made-to-be-comfortable heels.

"Hey, we're lucky that Frank thinks I'm an ugly son of a bitch so he let me go with you." Jason grinned cheekily, rubbing her shoulder up and down with care, "You're going to be fine Gabriella."

Her smoldering eyes looked up at him, "I know I will be. But I can't help but feel this one's different. Something about this day…" She glanced towards the newsroom as if she could see the wet snow raining from the overcast heavens.

With one more hug, Jason finally let her go and glanced at his watch, "We should probably head down there if we want to get a better spot than those Times bastards." He quickly grabbed a black camera case and collected the scattered materials upon the table, placing them in their respective cases. When he looked up, Gabriella was staring out of the door towards the large room, her body angled and trembling already. She could feel him behind her as he placed a hand upon her shoulder in soothes, "You were born for this Els."

She glanced back at him once more with a small smile before whispering, "Today is mine, and no one else's."

* * *

Troy closed his eyes before opening them back up again, staring into the shimmering reflection of himself in the mirror.

His hands were gripped tightly on the sink so his tips were white. The bathroom had a concocting smell of his aftershave and Gabriella's intoxicating perfume. Unlike the khaki's and navy blue polo he should have been wearing for his shift that day, he was dressed in a pair of black pants and matching dress shirt. Due to the dark color of his clothes, his eyes were bright and intense against the low lighting. Similar sensations to when he was nodding his head to his iPod before a game in his blue and gold jersey were bubbling in his stomach.

Work had been called – he had apparently received food poisoning after eating spoiled fish. Normally, he wouldn't have lied to get out of sessions with his patents. Thankfully though, he only had to miss out on one session where he would spent with a fifty year-old lady who, ironically, smelled like bad tilapia. The office could survive without him.

After deciding that his clothes would be suitable for his destination, Troy took one more whiff of Gabriella's smell before walking into his bedroom. The bed was surprisingly tidy for being unmade. For what seemed like the first time in months, they hadn't had sex. Troy had sensed it when he first walked into the apartment after the visit from Alicia and found Gabriella curled up on the couch, shaking in her yoga pants. At first he had panicked that something had happened in his absence and immediately crouched to her side, trailing his fingers over her body in search for bruise marks or worse. Gabriella had took his palms between her fingers and promised him no harm had been done. She then told him of the exciting news that was causing her nerves. Troy had pulled her tightly to him with a sense of pride, but noted she was more frightened than ecstatic. With encouragement, he tried to sooth her and reminded her how she would be great, but he didn't even think she heard him when she climbed into bed with shivers rolling down her spine.

Retrieving his jacket from the closet, Troy ran his hand down the fabric of his shirts before glancing at the clock, realizing it was time to go. Without an attempt to make the bed, he grabbed the directions he had Googled that morning and mentally calculated the bus route needed for the trip. Quickly, he laced his shoes and grabbed his keys to leave, but not without snatching the written statement that would allow him into the grounds without question.

Before the door swung shut, Troy quickly stole a knit hat and a pair of sunglasses, despite the clouds hanging overcast. He felt like a celebrity dodging the paparazzi as he skipped two steps down the stairs and quickly turned into the whipping cold.

These were necessary precautions - the last thing he wanted was to be seen.

* * *

"They should be here any minute." Jason looked down at his watch with icicles forming on his dark eyelashes.

The different reporters from different television stations stood lined up closest to the surprisingly empty road with their bodies shaking as they held cameras bigger than Gabriella's first car on their shoulders. It was clear by the blankets that hung out of their news trucks that they had been camped out for the night in anticipation. After becoming more accustom to seeing familiar reporters from different papers at different events since she first arrived in New York, she recognized the few faces that stood closer to her beside the Roman pillars that were unique to the courthouse. They appeared slightly warmer than the ones with microphones in their trembling hands and coated make up that dripped down their faces as they spoke to the people of the world of the background information and rumors that had been leaked twenty-four hours before.

The wet snow made Gabriella's cheeks burn and shined crimson. Even through the layers upon layers that covered her slim body, the ice still managed to seep through the protection and prickle at her skin. The wind wasn't helping either, it whipped at her wavy hair almost to make her blind. She squinted against the gray sky to see if the expensive cars of the lawyers crept over the barren street. Sighing at the void, Gabriella fingered the buttons on her tape recorder in the pocket of her peacoat.

"I think my toes are numb." She wiggled her feet in her black heels, thankful for the pantyhose she had worn beneath to keep her somewhat guarded.

"They're lawyers. Do you really think they give a rat's ass about us freezing our balls off? They fucking hate us." Jason asked, Gabriella nose wrinkling at the thought of the lawyer she did know. He adjusted his camera again and turned around to snap a few shots of the protesters attempting to shove their way towards the entrance. The police had barricaded the area well, but she still felt uneasiness while standing so vulnerable.

The spectators had already trickled in hours before when she first arrived. Everything was set except for the representations. Still fearful that she would completely slaughter this story, Gabriella was slightly thankful that it was so cold for no one would be able to tell if she was trembling in fright or frostbite. The research she had done yesterday informed her that the defense was a ruthless man named Oliver York and the prosecution was the bitch-of-the-century Megan Chandler.

There were sudden screams from the crowd behind her. Gabriella whirled around, her hair slapping Jason in the face while her heart pitter pattered wildly against her chest. A single limousine crawled down the street, ignoring the limits and dragging on the time they had as long as possible. The protesters were wild when it crept to a stop, the door swinging open and the police pushing their rage backwards. Three men stepped out in their expensive business suits; two being younger than the first as it was obvious the elder was the infamous York. Douglas, who had been locked up without bail for the past three months, was already inside. Shouts, inquisitions and questions were raised upon the defense as they kept their heads down and refused to respond. Pushing through the crowd, the lawyers didn't dare utter a word more than "no comment" as they marched up the steps. This was procedure, their say would not be revealed until a recess or the day had closed. Gabriella's own voice was silent – she knew not a word would be uttered, so she saved it.

No later did the courthouse's doors slam to a shut that another sleek limousine screeched to a stop. The reaction from the crowd was not quite as gruesome, but there were cheers when the door opened, nonetheless. This time, a single woman clicked her heels against the ground – her eyes black with merciless determination. She smirked slightly as she took sight of the press, holding a secret that no one knew. Opposite to the defense, Megan immediately approached the nearest camera with a swagger of triumph. Pulse racing, Gabriella could barely hear the snapping of Jason's camera as he took pictures of the experienced.

"She looks lethal!" Jason shouted over the screams of acknowledgement.

Gabriella completely ignored him, shoving her recorder into the line of fire and screamed, "MEGAN CHANDLER!" against the crowd. Bumping against the journalist from Time Magazine beside her, Gabriella felt herself being shoved out of the way.

Frustrated and bruised, Gabriella squeezed around Jason and dodged the others until she was dead center of the pathway. While her back was turned, a young woman with acorn eyes and olive skin stepped out of the car, along with what Gabriella recognized as the two mothers of the victims with shiny eyes and a redhead behind her. Assuming they were aspiring law students, Gabriella ignored them and yelled to grab the attention of the parents.

Her voice, however, suddenly cracked when the final occupant of the car stepped into the light. Mocha eyes widening with pure horror, Gabriella almost dropped her recorder in shock. Her frozen fingers, the knocking against her elbows, the screams in her ear... they all disappeared at the pulsation of the earthquake a scarlet shoe caused when it pressed against the sidewalk.

When Alicia Moretti lifted her jade eyes towards the doors of the courthouse with fire, Gabriella knew the trial just became much more than murder.

* * *

There had only been one trial in her life that Alicia had been nervous for.

The case took place back in the beginning of her law career, in fact it was her first real time in a courtroom after she had declared her major, and therefore she was jiggling with nerves. It was a closed case –family had already suffered enough without the pesky reporters shoving microphones in their faces. Alicia could remember that day like it was yesterday, for the sun had beaten all too brightly upon her back and her legs had shook as she entered the courthouse to take her appropriate seat. She had watched in both awe and petrifaction when the defense lawyer, with his cynical smile and gray eyes, had sat down beside a filthy twenty three year-old man with a scraggly beard that covered his face like a mask. The defendant's irises had been black and his skin was stretched. He looked like the opposite of the prosecution's table, with the client's hair and her face all too hollow from grief.

The victim had innocently been on her way to visit her parents in Austin, Texas for the weekend after exams were completed that semester. The head lawyer representing the father and mother stood in front of the crowd with a picture of girl overlooking upon the jury in a ghostly way. Every so often, Alicia had taken an unsteady breath and glanced at the perfection of her smile and the twinkle of her eye – knowing her life was taken from the man across the room. She had shuddered and forced herself back into focus as the head lawyer, with his white hair and khaki suit, explained in detail of how the collision caused the windshield to shatter across her body. The speed of the glass stabbed her mercilessly in the pulmonary artery, the right atrium of the heart, and severed her trachea. When the car rolled onto its hood, it wrapped around an illuminated light pole and crushed her tiny body. Ironically, if she would have not followed the laws and left her seatbelt unbuckled, it would have been possible she wouldn't have died of crushed lungs minutes after the robber had sped around the corner and shot his bullets into the car chasing him and ultimately cause him to smash into her unsuspecting vehicle.

She had learned so much about the family of the victims and their reactions that day. The mother rose to the stand with tears pouring down her face like rain, explaining how her daughter had dreams to teach first grade students and always arrived home in time for her curfew in high school. She had been so hysterical the head lawyer ushered her off the stage in case she would stain the stand. Her father had sworn revenge that whether the law locked him up for life or not, the defendant would never see the light of day again. Of course, he had been forced to a silence before he could say any further and make the prosecution appear as though they were threatening.

Clearly popular, her friends sobbed of how she always was there for them if needed and would have never intentionally caused pain upon another. This pleased The State, it caused sympathy in the jurors' eyes. Silent and shaken, her boyfriend sat in the witness stand staring at his hands mutely and hadn't looked up once. The lawyer had pleaded with him to cause the jury to feel empathetic if he shed tears in front of them or screamed at the murderer for stealing the love of his life. Instead, the mother had assured the prosecutor they had enough evidence without his testimony and he deserved to morn over his lost love in silence.

When the gavel slammed and the accused was proven guilty, her nerves had disappeared. Her side had won; they were successful in putting the man behind bars for involuntary manslaughter. She had internally cheered and hugged both of the parents before beaming into the sunshine in triumph.

Years later, Alicia found that she was just as nervous that day when she saw Gabriella Montez in the back of the courtroom with her recorder pressed on and her smoldering eyes drilled upon her.

* * *

Gabriella quickly learned that the court system may not be as dramatic as one might see on television, but it didn't make it any less fascinating.

She was sitting with Jason on her immediate left, playing with the buttons on his camera and a reporter from what looked like a small television station on her right.

Leaning forward, Gabriella's leg was crossed and her elbow was propped against the black fabric that covered her thigh. Her chin rested in the heel of her palm and her opposite quad was used as a makeshift desk for her notebook. One of four pens was tapping upon the edge of the metal spirals and her eyes were dark with interest as she watched the ballet of the prosecution march before the judge with her witness sitting erect in the stand. Now sporting a side ponytail so she could see at all angles, Gabriella eagerly absorbed the scene as the black haired woman strutted across the floor in her shiny pumps.

"… so what you're saying, Detective, is that you think there is no way a person could have not realized they were making marking a sign of God on a woman's abdomen, even if said person claimed to have a schizophrenic episode?" Megan almost purred as she leaned towards the short haired detective.

"Objection!" Oliver York, with his voice that sounded more like a barking bulldog than an actual human, roared and pointed towards the cop, "Speculation. Detective White is clearly not a psychiatrist, he's an officer."

The judge, who looked as though she could be an early grandmother with cinnamon curls that framed her thinning face, nodded and peered over her wire glasses, "Sustained. Rephrase, Councilor."

Megan lowered the pit of her eyes, though impossibly always managing to maintain contact with the paled man seated behind the defense table, "Sorry Your Honor. You've handled a stoker before, haven't you Detective?"

A chilling wind stalked down the writer's back when she saw the York lean towards his client, inducing a shiver as she attempted to turn her head away from the accused. She couldn't have been further from him – with the reporters the least of the judge's concerns, they were automatically banished to the back of the room and forced to crank their heads over the spectators' obnoxiously long necks. As he had been pushed into the room adored with decorative wood and an American flag shimmering over the judge's bench, Gabriella couldn't help but grip Jason's arm fearfully. With his blonde hair much too long over his ears and scrawny body covered in navy jail scrubs, Gabriella felt a looming terror that the hands he had placed upon the defense table in trembles had massacred. It was then that, for the first time since they had been ushered in, Alicia shifted her eyes towards the journalist and shook her to show her disgust of the murderer.

Detective White, who ironically had dark chocolate skin a shiny bare head, chuckled deeply, "I grew up in upper Michigan. Fireplaces were what kept us from waking up to black toes."

Smiling as if it was a joke, Megan let out a musical laugh, "Sounds a bit like Laura Ingalls to me."

He shrugged, "It was home."

Gabriella leaned forward and watched as the brunette in the front row leaned over to her fellow colleague and whispered softly into her ear. Not even realizing what she was doing, it wasn't until Jason placed a steadying hand on her shoulder that she had almost slipped off the uncomfortable seat. Several other journalists were scratching notes through the silence as Megan's heels clicked against the wooden floorboards in order to stop beside a table adjacent to the jury. Her fingers delicately stroked over neatly labeled plastic bags until she seemed to find her weapon of choice – literally speaking. For a brief moment, Gabriella sucked in a hot breath as she watched Alicia sit still as stone when the tainted stick was raised.

"Is this the weapon you retrieved from the scene of the crime on February 14th?" Megan asked, waving the object around as if it were a baton. Gabriella caught a glance towards the jury to see them tensing in horror. Her pen quickly scribbled a messy note before looking up again.

Jumping, Gabriella felt a warm breath in her ear, "I want bitchy best friend to run the show. She'd fuck them up with her evil stare." He motioned his pointer and middle finger to his eyes. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Gabriella giggled and received dirty looks from the more experienced writers.

Due to Jason's interruption, she missed a brief exchange between Megan and Detective White. However, she returned when Megan shook the weapon once again, "In your judgment, would you say this is what caused the death of the victim on February 14th?"

"Yes."

Megan smiled in an almost seductive manor that proved to Gabriella her point was about to be made, "After eighteen years on the police force, would you say you _knew _what your intentions were when you had pointed a handgun?"

"Yes. Unfortunately desperate times call for desperate measures."

Alicia quickly glanced around over the crowd and locked eyes with Gabriella, narrowing her gaze in almost a challenge for her to write the success down, "So what you're saying, Detective, is that you had just as much intention pointing your handgun as you did something simple as picking up a stoker?" As she annunciated the word, the fireplace poker clanged to the evidence table once again, making Gabriella practically jump out of her powdered blue button up. Soothingly, Jason placed a hand on her shoulder in order to help her steady her breathing.

The detective leaned forward and pressed his elbows upon the stand, glaring ruthlessly at Douglas's blinking confusion, "In eighteen years on the police force, I know every criminal damn well knows when he wants his victim dead.."

"Objection!" The defense bellowed, rumbling the floorboards beneath her heels.

"Sustained," the judge turned towards the beaming woman, "Control your witness."

Megan, however, mirrored the smirk that drew upon Alicia's face, "Nothing further."

* * *

Troy didn't agree with the detective's final statement.

The bench he was seated upon was all too hard as he stared distantly while the defense cross examined the witness. In the central edge of the spectator's seats, Troy did his best to keep his head down and his eyes hidden while still remaining respectful by removing the sunglasses, but keeping the knit hat closed tightly around his scalp. He was equidistant between his lover of a reporter in the back of the room and his lawyer and best friend whispering in the front. Frowning, Troy tried not to think of how much he hated that she _was _seated behind the prosecution and how he wished she would find a new occupation.

"Detective," Oliver York, with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, began to pace around the witness stand, "you said to Ms. Chandler that you've been in the police force for eighteen years." He whistled, which sounded more like a dying cat, "That's a long time."

The dark man with obnoxiously large arms in the front sent daggers in the direction of Charles Douglas, "Someone's got to keep the streets clean from the creeps of the world."

Daring to catch a glance back at Gabriella, he watched as she winced her button nose before jotting down a quick note in her book. Troy's heart panged – a part of him wanted to rush towards her and promise that the bad people would get locked away. However, she was not glass and could handle herself. Plus, although if he ever wanted to sit in one of Alicia's trials he could thanks to her signature upon a card he kept in his wallet, he wanted to blend into the crowd so Alicia wouldn't notice. He had vowed he would never attend a case, and being here would only infuriate the lawyer at a dangerous level. It was vital that he stayed out of sight.

York walked over to run his hand over the defense stand, making the Douglas's head snap up with a start, "Defective, you told us that when Charles Douglas was taken into custody on August 31st, he was rocking back and forth, mumbling something under his breath, correct?"

Detective White didn't have to think twice, "Yes."

Troy watched as he walked over to the exhibit table and suddenly he felt an eerie sense of déjà vu. Quickly, he gripped his hands upon his knees and fought with his own memories to remain focused within the present courtroom. The spectator beside him glanced warily in his direction, but the fogginess began to take over his vision. After taking a breath to steady himself, Troy nodded that he was fine and returned his penetrating gaze on the lawyer lifting a thick stack of papers, "Is this the transcript of your interview with Charles Douglas?"

With an echo of his expensive shoes against the wood, he marched over to the witness stand, "Could you read this line here to the court?" He asked while pointing to the packet.

Troy felt a shutter ripple down his spine while the detective read a passage from the Bible about punishment, "Thank you. Tell me, Detective, did Charles Douglas say anything else during the interview?"

"No."

There was a masochistic smile that curled upon Oliver York's face, "In the eighteen years you've held this position, would you say this is normal for a suspect?"

He opened his mouth to rebut, but solemnly shook his head, "No."

"Did he ever make any indication he knew where he was?"

"No."

"So what you're saying is," York turned to the jury, "Charles's Douglas's behavior was antisocial and slightly psychotic."

"Objection!" Megan chimed, though Troy noticed Alicia had nudged her arm as if to convince her to object, "Mr. York has already reminded us my witness is not a psychiatrist."

"I'll allow it." said the judge.

York turned to his victim, "What are you saying Detective White?"

Detective White leaned forward, his eyes black with hatred as he mentally persecuted Charles Douglas with his glare. The skin on Troy's arms rose as he watched the words slowly move around the oval surface of his mouth, "I'm saying exactly as I had before. All criminals who have the urge to kill do it - fully aware of what they're doing and the lives they're affecting." He hissed before crashing his back against the chair again and shook his head in disgust. The court buzzed in response until the judge slammed her gavel, calling for order in her court.

With his hand in his chin and his bright eyes slightly glossy, Troy bowed his head. He knew full well there was a difference between actually pulling the trigger, and believing someone was better off dead.


	25. Minute Twenty Five

**A/N: I hope you guys like this chapter – it's been a tradition of mine to update on my birthday (which kinda sorta happens to be today), so I decided to keep it up this year too. This is my present to you for trusting me through the ups and downs of this story and through my time I've been on this site. Let me know your thoughts, and thank you SO much for being such awesome readers.**

* * *

"Troy?" Gabriella called into the apartment as she kicked the door behind her and tossed her spare key onto the counter, "You home?"

In the latter few weeks of their relationship, Gabriella and Troy had slowly begun to snip the boundaries of their living arrangements. What she had thought was a joke of snatching a spare key that lay in his dress and dancing around saying she was going to swipe it was actually a reality in Troy's mind. Half naked at the time, he tickled her stomach and replied that she could keep it – he had no other use for it anyways. With bugged eyes, Gabriella had frozen and asked if this was a leap too far forward too fast. Nonchalantly, however, he simply shrugged and assured her that it was only a big deal if she made it a big deal. Therefore, two days later, she had given him a spare to hers. They seemed to set up a systematic formula that was fairly simple – weekdays were at Troy's because they were closer to his classes and weekends were at Gabriella's because they were closer to the Danforth-McKessie residence.

On cue, the door to the bathroom opened and out walked Troy – his hair matted against his forehead and the loose sweats clung from his scalped body, "Hey, you're home." He beamed brightly while rubbing the white towel over his blackened hair and strode across the living room. Without hesitation, his lips dropped down to hers as he pulled her tightly against him. Gabriella sighed into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck; the tingles of his fingertips floating over her back were intoxicating. When they broke apart, Gabriella felt a flutter of her heart after replaying the words back into her head: _you're home_.

He took her palms in his, running steady circles over to smooth out the back of her hand. The lack of contact was broken immediately; Troy pressed his lips against her forehead and left them there, allowing Gabriella to take in a whiff of the cologne he had just sprayed upon his body. "Just got back from practice?"

"Yeah… not important though…" he mumbled against her skin before blazing the full inferno of his irises upon her, "How'd the trial go? Tell me everything."

Leading her towards the couch, Troy sat down before tugging on her hand to join him. Immediately, Gabriella fell into the curve of his body and pressed her cheek against his warm chest, feeling his heart beat pound. Emotionally, and physically due to the early hours she had to rise, Gabriella was exhausted after the day of fixations on murder. It was comforting to be back into the safety of Troy's arms were such a horror didn't exist. Pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin, Gabriella smiled weakly up at him.

"It was fascinating, Troy. Disturbing as fuck, but prying apart his mind is unbelievably incredible. I wish you could have seen it." The profiler within spoke quickly as her eyes twinkled up at him.

"Down girl," he teased and kissed the tip of her nose, "Watching a psycho-murder explain if he had a schizophrenic episode while cutting up two students who go to the same college that I'm taking grad school… probably not my first choice in how to spend an afternoon."

"But the psychology behind it!" Gabriella practically jumped up and out of his arms to attempt to convince him, but Troy tightened his grasp around her waist.

"Did you write the article already?" He asked, pushing aside the swoop of her bangs in order to stare deeper into her eyes.

Nodding against his chin, Gabriella felt his hand squeeze her waist with pride, "Yeah, that's why I'm back so late." On cue, she arched her back and felt a yawn grow from the back of her throat. Stretching her arm, she almost whacked Troy in the face. He chuckled and ran another hand through his dampened bangs before Gabriella settled back down onto his chest, listening to the gentle intake of his breathing, "You'll never guess who was prosecuting."

Her eyes lifted upwards through her thick lashes, watching his reaction carefully. Troy flickered a smile before shaking his head, clearly not surprised by Gabriella's information, "I'm sure I could figure it out."

This made Gabriella slightly uncomfortable and she lifted her body up from his grasp to glare at him. He simply sat back with his arm draped over the back of the couch, a small smile tugging on the side of his lips. This made Gabriella completely crank around so she was out of his clutches. His composition was bemused by her anger, which only irritated her further, "You knew. You knew she was going to prosecute."

Troy shrugged nonchalantly, "I knew," Gabriella slapped his shoulder, which caused his eyes to bug and him to rub the impact spot painfully, "Ow! What the fuck…?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gabriella hissed, not furious but annoyed.

Sighing, Troy leaned his head back against the couch and trailed his fingers down her thigh, which was pointed in his direction, "I didn't want you to have any preconceived notions about the case, or make you feel even more nervous. This was supposed to be your moment, and I didn't want my life to affect it."

His hands laced through hers as he spoke the words and gave her a gentle pulse. Slowly, her guard was dropped and she melted in the liquid of his eyes. There was truth behind the jade flecks that adorned the edges of the ceruleans. Even after all this time, she felt her cheeks warm as she scrutinized them, hunting through the depth and trauma that filmed layers over the glossy surface. Breaking into reality again, Gabriella shook the imaginary idea of the dead girl from her mind and focused on the present, "In a messed up way, that sort of makes sense. Thank you."

He pressed his lips against her temple, "You're welcome."

Suddenly, an idea sparked in her head – one that suddenly made her blood run swift as she turned to him, "You could come!" She was so eager she didn't see the momentary falter of his eyes before they quickly recovered, "Don't lawyers allow certain people pass? She could let you in! Troy, you'd love it… seriously…"

Wincing, Troy quickly shook his head and excess shower sprayed onto her cheeks, "Gab… I can't…."

She did notice, however, the way his body twisted uncomfortably. The journalist within suddenly perked up, the series of unanswered questions swirled around in her head. Why was he suddenly so antsy? With her heart pounding wildly against her chest, she leaned closer to him to absorb any revelation about his past possible. Her finger twitched so desperately that she had to clamp them between her knees.

"Why not?" Gabriella asked almost breathlessly, her eyes never leaving his.

He seemed to be debating with himself, potentially whether he should lie or remain honest, "I um… Alicia's told me I'm always welcome but the thought of watching someone on the stand sickens me. I've vowed that I'd never go, and I'm pretty sure she'd be pissed off if I showed up to support you."

There was more to the story, she knew it, but pushing her luck was not an option. So instead, she simply looked down at her hands and whispered, "Oh."

With his eyes half closed and his mouth twitching into a lopsided grin, Troy nodded, "So tell me about it, apart from Alicia being there." He paused briefly, "Wait, are you hungry? Never mind, I already know the answer…"

He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her temple before standing up. Gabriella did her best not to follow the perfect curvature of his spine while turning in the direction of the kitchen, but it was insanely distracting when his black sweats were hanging half way down his boxer briefs. Snapping his head backwards once again, he raised his eyebrows suggestively while catching her dead in the act. Gabriella blushed profusely like a teenager again before turning her attention anywhere but at him. It just so happened that she fixated her gaze on a printed piece of paper lying on the coffee table. There was a clatter of Troy fishing through pots and pans in the kitchen, but it went slightly unheard when she pulled the stack to her.

"Can I just make you a sandwich? I can't find anything but beer…"

Gabriella didn't respond. Instead, her side pony swung as she bent down and hovered over the sheet. Quickly, her eyes shifted left and right and felt her heart wildly pound against her chest. The words "Albuquerque International Sunport" "Departure" and "American Airlines" leapt to grab her attention. Her breath caught when she saw the number of passengers for the quote, which only meant one thing: He had neglected to share his plans with her, or he was taking his best friend.

"Gab? Oh _shit_…"

Judging by the fright in his voice, Gabriella would have gone with the latter.

Snapping her head back up, Gabriella took sight of Troy with one hand clasped tightly on a butter knife and the other holding up an open jar of peanut butter. She caught a whiff of the protein before she noted the wide-eyed shock his eyes formed. Frantically, Gabriella pushed away the flight times and held up her hands as if she had been caught with something lethal, "I'm sorry! It was just on the table and I couldn't help but look…"

Troy let out a sigh and ran the hand that was holding the knife through his hair – for a moment it looked as though he was giving himself a cut, "Shit no, this is my fault. I didn't want you to find out like this…"

Gabriella bit her lip with glossy eyes – she was slightly unnerved by his last comment but said nothing. Of course, it was Troy's choice to take whomever he wanted to see his parents back in Albuquerque. But there was something that seeped vulnerability about exposing one's hometown. Despite his invitation to dapple into his past, it was as though he did not trust her with this part of his life that so vitally shaped who he was. Besides, the exposure of his childhood could ultimately reveal secrets that have affected what was hidden. Within the mountains of Albuquerque, she could finally find the key that unlocked the truth to Emily's death.

"I was planning on asking before," Troy confessed, dropping to his knees and placing the peanut butter-knife combo to clatter on the coffee table, "but I didn't want to distract you from the trial." Shrugging to hide her disappointment, Gabriella pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin upon her dress pants.

She swallowed thickly, trying to resist asking if his parents had a spare bedroom Alicia would be sleeping in instead of his bed, "When were you planning on going?"

Somehow, he managed to wiggle his way between her now spread legs and stroked his hands up her thighs, "Um… three weeks. We'd leave from LaGuardia Friday morning at eight AM, have a layover in Dallas, and get into Albuquerque at like," he glanced down at the itinerary, "one-forty. Then we'd leave Sunport on Monday at one-twenty, stop in Chicago, then head back to LaGuardia at nine twenty-five."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Gabriella was confused at the detailed relay of a vacation she wasn't even going on. However, she said nothing except, "Oh."

Troy frowned, obviously disappointed with her response, "Look, I know I should have asked you before I started looking. You should have cleared it with Frank first, but…"

"Wait, Frank?" Gabriella asked incredulously, with her eyebrows raised to the bridge of her black hairline.

Shifting his eyes back and forth, Troy squeezed her thighs with confusion, "You know… your boss? You've gotta let him know you'll miss like two days if you're running away to Albuquerque with me for a weekend," he tensed fearfully and let out a dry chuckle, "Or, you know, if you don't want to go or whatever."

Her eyes widened when the truth finally clicked. Oh.

Immediately, her smile grew three sizes too big for her face. She placed her hands on either side of his cheeks to force him to stare deeply into the depths of her mocha irises. Gabriella was captivated and did her absolute best to maintain the intensity to get across what needed to be said when she slowly mouthed, "Troy, there is nothing in the world I want more than to go visit your family with you." She promised while leaning her forehead up so it pressed against his.

Troy didn't hesitate or question – he immediately answered with his lips searching for hers. Gabriella breathed deeply into the kiss as her fingers dove into the moist strands of his hair, bringing him closer to the couch. Their movements were difficult though, for both had bright grins that stretched over their cheeks. Giggling wildly, Gabriella did her best to maintain the intimacy, but failed when Troy began to pepper sweet kisses over her face. She wiggled like a teenage girl in love until he finally gazed into her eyes once again, "You don't know what you're in for Montez."

She kissed him softly, taking in each moment like her last, "I'm sure I can handle it."

Dropping his gaze once again, she caught one more sight of his goofy grin before he plopped beside her and pulled her close, "Come on, tell me all about psycho Douglas. I want the dirty details you're so amped up about."

She was certain her new high was on other more exciting events, but nonetheless, Gabriella shrugged her shoulders, "Maybe you just had to be there."

Mischievously, Troy pecked the tip of her nose and replied, "Maybe."

* * *

Gabriella's heels clicked against the wood of the courthouse as she took large strides to keep up with her photographer, who seemed to be eager to leave the judgment room, "I swear, that bitch is like a snake. A fucking hot snake though." Jason mumbled over his shoulder as they filed through the doors and into the hallway for a recess.

Slapping his shoulder with her notebook, Gabriella shook her tousled curls, "I'm telling Kelsi you said that."

Jason, just after sticking his tongue out, responded, "Be my guest."

Approximately, there were two more days left of the Douglas trial and by now, as much as she was hooked, Gabriella was thankful. The past four days had consisted of testimonies and arguments that all debated the mental capacity of Charles Douglas and whether or not his repetitive murders were due to multiple schizophrenic episodes or just because he was a sick bastard who found pleasure in leaving biblical symbols upon the body of women and sacrificing them to some deity. Every night, after furiously tying her notes into a well developed article, she returned to Troy's apartment with sleep in her eyes and fatigue in her muscles. Although he would never admit it, she could tell Troy was getting antsy with the lack of sexual contact due to her exhaustion. She had been thankful for the break of the weekend in between, but once Monday had rolled around and the trial resumed, it was back to the grind and her focus was geared fully to fireplace pokers and showers.

"I need water. Did you see a bubbler around here anywhere?" Gabriella tossed her head from side to side, squinting through the crowd in search of the unknown. Jason wasn't paying attention; he was too busy fumbling to take sloppy pictures with his camera. Unfortunately, due to the unwritten rules of the court system, the journalists were to stay clear of the lawyers and their clients during recesses. If given the opportunity to catch them before the gavel first sounded, the reporter was in luck. However, most of her interviews had occurred after the trial had closed for the day.

"Erm… who knows… Go drink from the toilet or something." he suggested, which only earned him a slap to his shoulder. Sending a black glare at her, Jason snickered at his faltered picture due to her abuse, "If that would have been a masterpiece, Frank can get on your ass instead of mine."

"Ugh, you're disgusting. Hold this…" She shoved her notebook into his grasp while stalking away.

"Am I gonna find, 'GM plus TB equals love' in the margins?" Jason called after her, grinning wildly while Gabriella turned back around and debated sticking up her middle finger, but then decided that the bird was not appropriate in front of the Wall Street Journal writers.

She wiggled through the various spectators, attempting to find a path to the restroom without being taken out by one of the bailiffs or overly vocal audience who thought that Douglas should receive the death penalty. She bumped into shoulders, muttering her apologies. Finally, she spotted the sign that directed to the women's lavatory. Barely managing to dodge the final person blocking her way, Gabriella pushed open the door and suddenly felt her heart abruptly come to a stop when she recognized the shimmering, chestnut hair and flexible body shimmying in front of the mirror.

"…fucking… bra…" The lawyer hissed before her eyes snapped up in the mirror to take sight of the interruption of her struggles. Gabriella heard her breath catch when her hands embarrassedly released the undergarment – never once did the emerald in her eyes leave the journalist.

Swallowing thickly, Gabriella listened to the eerie echo of her heels against the linoleum as she approached the sink. Alicia followed her the entire way, completely perplexed by Gabriella's motions. She could see the mental calculation of what should be done in her brain. The water rushed violently from the faucet as she pressed down upon it, her hand yanked away when the blistering liquid made contact with her skin. Alicia herself almost leapt backwards in fright at Gabriella's unwarned reaction. She stared back into the reflection again, feeling her pulse pound against her now raw fingers.

Finally, after what felt like years, Gabriella feigned the weakest smile she could muster and mumbled, "Hi."

Appreciating the effort, Alicia sent her own version of pathetic and smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt, "Hi."

As if the situation wasn't awkward enough, Gabriella suddenly remembered the last time she had been with this girl, apart from the time in the courtroom, Troy had had a massive boner and she was flustered and aroused. Maybe Alicia had amnesia and completely cast away the episode after Troy went to her apartment to smooth their relationship out. She highly doubted it; the blush upon Gabriella's cheeks was anything but innocent. Shifting her gaze to the sink once again, Gabriella placed her hands beneath the rushing water and endured the burning, "How've you been?"

Alicia snorted, clearly not amused by her pathetic attempt at small talk, "I'm trying to put a psycho in prison for serial murder… how do you think I've been?"

A part of Gabriella wanted to slap her for the smart ass comment, yet another part of her smiled at the grave position they were in, "Good point."

Another faucet leaked harmony with hers, Gabriella caught a glance to the side to see that Alicia was washing her hands as well, "You're not gonna like, quote me and I'll end up in The Tribute tomorrow, are you?"

Letting out a dry cackle, Gabriella shook her head, "No… it's off the record."

"So as long as we're off the record," Alicia led in, her eyes swimming with an unrecognizable emotion as she turned and reached for a paper towel, "Troy tells me he's taking you to New Mexico."

Immediately, Gabriella's head whipped around with burning coals for eyes. Her stomach dropped to the floor and laid in the pool of water she was standing in. Everything about the room suddenly felt overwhelming: the white tiles were too bright, the four stalls were far too closely stacked together, and the lights were beating too intensely upon her shoulders. She wasn't sure if her hands started trembling first, or if her lip twitched with anger. It was Troy's choice of whom he told, but Gabriella felt a slight pang of aggression that Alicia would dare bring it up within the sacred walls of… the bathroom. It wasn't her business, and Gabriella's paranoid mind found a sense of mockery in her falling smile that irritated her.

Gabriella finally turned away, looking back into the mirror with her hands squeezed tightly on the porcelain of the sink, "Uh, yeah. He invited me." She tried to add emphases to the last part, which leaded more possession than she originally intended.

Alicia, raising her pointed eyebrows, ran her short fingers through the tips of her hair strands, "That's exciting. A vacation of sorts."

She was trying to be friendly, Gabriella could tell by the shakiness of her voice and the way she chose her words carefully, to be sure no fire would ignite. Briefly, Gabriella wondered if they could have been friends had Troy not been in between. Of course, Alicia's feelings for him were completely platonic, but her hold on him was so fierce that the wedge between the two girls would always be lingering in the back of their minds. If, however, there was a parallel universe where Troy never existed, Gabriella thought curiously if they would have been close.

Gabriella finally flicked her hands free of droplets of water before reaching on her own side for a paper towel. She turned around to see that Alicia's eyes were cast down towards her wrist and the slim watch that covered it, "I should probably get back… Megan's probably going over strategy or whatever with the other girls." She said with an eye roll and a slight bitterness to her voice.

Furrowing her brow curiously, Gabriella tilting her head with inquisitions, "You don't sound thrilled."

Alicia ran a hand down the front of her thigh, ironing the wrinkles, "Megan's an incredible lawyer. She's smart, sarcastic and has an edge that drives deep," her eyes were softened when they looked up at Gabriella, "But there's only so much watching and being on the sidelines that you can take before it starts driving you crazy. I don't want to have to watch her; I want to prove I can be just as good."

Gabriella felt an eerie chill roll down her back as her shaking hand dropped the dirty paper into the waste basket. She wasn't staring at the journalist in any other way but normal, but the power and intensity behind her words was slightly unnerving. Glancing towards the mirror once again to see the division that drew on either side of them, Gabriella nodded and forced out a smile of some sorts, "I'm sure you'd knock them out of the water."

Alicia, letting out a breath that was supposed to be a laugh, shrugged, "I guess we'll never know til it happens."

Without a wave in parting, she turned on the balls of her feet and clicked towards the door. Once her hand was curled around the handle, Gabriella whirled around and called out, "Wait!"

Cranking an eyebrow towards the tip of her hairline, Alicia glanced skeptically back at her, "Yes?"

"Off the record," Gabriella grinned the first true smile since she entered the restroom. The possessive part of her was screaming to shut up and let the girl walk out, but the inborn kindness glued her to the spot she was in, "I don't think Douglas is insane. I think he's a fucking psycho who gets a kick out of seeing pain."

Finally shaking her head with a snort, Alicia's penetrating gaze drilled into her, "If you can convince those twelve people that, I'd be more grateful."

"That's your job." Gabriella pointed out.

"Right," she laughed, a beautiful chime Gabriella found unexpected, "and you might want to get back to yours."

Bowing her head so her curls sprawled over her body, Gabriella watched as she walked further out the door and out of sight.

Sighing, Gabriella turned to be sure she left nothing on the floor or accidently was tossed into the garbage. Once satisfied, she took sight of her reflection once again to be sure that neither her eyeliner nor mascara had smudged to give her a raccoon appearance. Content with her wardrobe, Gabriella walked in the footsteps that Alicia just stepped in and pushed open the door to be greeted with the noise of the spectators filing back into the courtroom once again. Jason was nowhere to be seen – he was probably drooling over Alicia's boss somewhere. Quickly, Gabriella scurried towards the filter and, once again, threw herself into the massive crowd in order to reach her seat. While wiggling through the doors, she bumped into more people in her efforts.

"Watch it!" Someone hissed as she accidently nudged them in the gut.

Her vision was a blur as she fought to maintain ground and find her partner. The jury was already waiting in their appropriate seats and the lawyers had their heads huddled together towards their clients. Gabriella saw a shimmer of Alicia's dark hair and realized she must have taken much longer in the bathroom than she realized. By mistake, she flailed her hand around to see over the mountainous people and smacked someone in the face. The judge was shuffling papers over her half mooned glasses, getting ready for recommencement.

Finally, just as she thought he completely ditched her, she found Jason snapping quick pictures beneath the window as though the scene from the front of the room was a presentation. Other cameras were illuminated and flashing lightning with each click of their machine. Due to the lack of sleep and stress of the trial, Gabriella was slightly dizzy under the bright lights. She felt light headed and blind as she stumbled in front of the other reporters like a drunken maiden. When Gabriella had collided with the stone chest and ate a chunk of his black button up, it was too late to dodge the man she slammed into.

She staggered backwards, but was caught by the sturdy arm cupped around her elbow to save her from complete embarrassment, "… oh I'm sorry…"

"Whoa…careful. I don't wanna see you get hurt."

Gabriella's heart immediately stopped beating.

She _knew_ that voice: she _loved _that voice.

By the time she came to her senses and her heart began to pound at a somewhat normal level, she looked up to find she was staring into air. With her pulse firing rapidly against her wrist, she snapped her head around with perplexity and fright. All she could take in, however, was the deep mahogany of the walls and the chatting reporters leaning over their notes with gossip upon their lips. Movements around her sped up and slowed down at the same time when she cranked her head around, in a hungry search for the two piercing eyes she was so captivated with. His words, sung by the perfection of his husky tone, whirled around with her body as she spun to find her rescuer.

He was here, she knew he was here.

But when the others found their seats and Gabriella stood stupidly while the judge cleared her throat to place a conclusion on the adjournment, there was no significant other to turn to. He was like a ghost, even if she _swore_ she heard his warning purr in her ear.

"_Montez_!" The filter of Jason's voice finally broke through to her jumbled thoughts, "sit your ass back down!"

It was a figment of her imagination, Gabriella told herself as she finally turned around with the eyes of the journalists upon her warily. She took her seat trembling, still hunting faces upon her to see if he had magically transformed into the others around. Gabriella placed a hand on her heart and took a steady breath to calm herself, keep from her panic attack. Obviously she had been working far too hard and it was finally taking a toll on her hallucinations.

Little did she know, that figment of her imagination was staring solemnly at the witness stand beneath three rows ahead with his black knit hat pulled over the lashes of his bright blue eyes.


	26. Minute Twenty Six

**A/N: Thank you for the amazing birthday wishes and support of this story in general. I really, really hope you guys like this chapter. Thanks for reading as always, let me know your thoughts!**

* * *

"Montez!" barked Frank as he thundered past her desk, which seated a very focused Gabriella intently typing at her computer.

Sighing with slight annoyance, her dark eyes shifted from her article and glanced up to see the center part upon his head was extra shiny under the lights of the news room that day. His cheeks were rosy with a shimmer of some emotion that was at first unrecognizable as she tilted her head with scrutiny. Rubbing her eyes and smearing her make up slightly, she sent him the best suck up smile she could muster – which looked more like a murderous clown than a meaningful grin, "Yes Frank?" She asked with her teeth slightly gritted and her patience running thin.

"I want you in my office." He ordered. His voice was gruff at the edges and just as impatient as hers.

This was extremely irritating – she had less than an hour and a half to type up an article that Thursday afternoon. Unlike most days, there was no chance of her staying late due to her busy schedule that night. Therefore, pulling herself away from her work was excruciating and didn't seem as though it could be an option at that moment. Instead of rising as he wished, Gabriella glanced down at her notes one more time before pleading with her irises, "Let me just finish this up and then I'll head in there…"

"You have two minutes to get your tiny ass into my office," Frank ordered, clearly not in the mood for negotiation, with his sausage fingers pointing towards the clock, "starting now."

"Somebody's angry." An unexpected voice chimed behind her, Gabriella turned around to be greeted with two gray eyes and a beaming Rebecca as she sat swinging her heels beneath the desk she was stationed at. Ever since Gabriella was promoted to a story that hadn't required Rebecca's services as a mentor, the woman had taken matters into her own hands and decided to keep a closer eye on the intern. Frank, obviously, hadn't noticed when Rebecca was spending more time around her desk which was just behind hers. This put a damper on her days, for the hawk-like eyes surveying her every move forced the normal opportunities of when she bounced ideas off of Jason to a minimal.

With a pout, Gabriella saved her document and then closed down the program. She straightened out her blouse with a shrug and mentally calculated how long she could linger there without Frank popping his already stretched buttons, "I'm sure he just wants to talk to me about leaving tomorrow or something." Gabriella replied with a smile fighting to reveal itself at the thought of the plane ride she'd be catching early in the morning.

Rebecca, despite Gabriella's calmness, seemed to have other ideas, "Yesterday Frank brought Evelyn in his office and told her if she didn't pick up her shit and start writing movie reviews instead of swooning over Ashton Kutcher's abs, he'd fire her."

A wry smile crossed her face as she leaned forward, "Well it's a good thing I'm not a movie critic."

Appalled and offended, Rebecca dropped her jaw with her eyebrows furrowed tightly against her brow. Ignoring her, Gabriella swayed away with a swagger that proved she wasn't going to allow herself to be walked all over any longer. By far, she was one of the best writers at The Tribute and people were beginning to notice. Yes, she was still an intern, but the respect she received from the other employees jumped to the level of bowing their heads if they were in line to receive their morning coffee instead of completely ignoring her. It was most likely that the entire news room would have a belief that she had Dissociative Identity Disorder as revenge for her snarky comment towards her mentor, but by now Gabriella could have cared less.

Winding through her now-familiar path towards Frank's headquarters, Gabriella smiled politely at the other reporters who didn't seem to notice her. When she reached the main aisle, she felt the presence of someone behind her. Twirling around, she caught sight of Jason and a stack of photographs teetering in his arms. His eyebrows wiggled in recognition when he locked eyes with her, a smirk drawing upon his face, "Hey babe!"

Gabriella giggled at his struggles, "Having trouble?" She asked, though her gaze lingered on the clock for a moment to notice she had less than thirty seconds to take five strides until her deadline was up.

"Shut up and help me." He snapped, his black bangs hiding his line of vision.

She shook her head, her curls tossing every which way, "Can't. Frank wants me in his office or else it's my head."

Jason snorted, "Maybe he's giving you condoms for your little honeymoon with murder boy."

Olive skin flushing red, Gabriella blushed profusely and considered tripping him so his photos would fly every which way. However, she managed to contain herself while sticking her tongue out at her friend, "One, how many times do I have to tell you, he's not a murderer. Two, we're going to his _parents_ house, so no honeymoon activities there. And three… ew." She scrunched her nose at the thought of her large boss sliding over a tiny package from his messy desk. She shuttered.

"I won't rule it out until we know for sure." Jason responded, blowing his hair upwards and out of his coal colored eyes, "He's good at playing ninja at court cases."

Gabriella frowned, the incident at the Douglas case had been driving her up the wall for the past two and a half weeks since it happened. As much as she had to convince herself she had merely imagined his voice due to the lack of sleep that week, something in the back of her mind kept poking around that it was not a hallucination. His voice had been as crystal as she was speaking with Jason at that moment. Once arriving home that night, she indirectly interrogated him about his whereabouts for the day. Troy had casually listed his attendance in class and then work, ending the night with practice with the Warriors. It was frustrating, but no matter how hard she pressed, Troy remained calm and collected – thought slightly perplexed at why she had such an interest for his daily activities.

"If you say he fucking murdered Emily again, I will make sure you wake up tomorrow with no dick." she hissed before finally turning around and almost running into another coworker, "Sorry!" Her call went unnoticed by Jason's obnoxious laughing at her failed attempt of walking. She mentally cursed at Jason before placing her hand on the door leading to the office.

She entered the room to what she had expected – Frank seated in the useless space of a chair and his face stern. The creases upon his chubby forehead made large indents, making him appear ten years older than what he really was. A ring shined under the lighting, reflecting the rubies and golds that gave the room a royal appeal. However, there was something different in the aurora of the room. The lamp in the corner, the picture frames without photographs inside, the first framed article he had published: Like there was something missed placed.

"Erm… sir?" Gabriella asked awkwardly and impatiently – her article on a recall of birth control was waiting on her computer and she only wanted to be within the walls for a little as possible, "You uh… wanted to see me?"

Frank leaned backwards, almost causing the chair to topple backwards with his weight. He recovered enough to fold his hands together and rest on his stomach, eyeing her slowly. Gabriella felt slightly uncomfortable with his scrutiny, there was something peculiar about the way he was watching her closely with the furry puppies for eyebrows scrunched together. Cringing slightly, Gabriella wrapped both arms around her taught stomach, which was covered by a powdered blue top that accentuated her natural curves.

"Tell me Montez, do you know who Jeremy Allen is?" Frank asked, his black eyes flickering somewhere in the corner of the room. Gabriella resisted the temptation to turn around – her boss's stare was penetrating.

At first, she thought it was a trick question; but the way Frank glared at her was enough to prove that this was anything but funny, "One of the subeditors of The Los Angeles Times?" She stated with a rise in her voice that sounded like a question.

This caused Frank to raise one of his puppies – or rather eyebrows. She shivered slightly, not sure if he was angered by her knowledge or not, "What's your opinion on him?"

Gabriella's mind reeled over the pages and pages she shifted through in college, searching in the deep locker of her experience at Boston University. Distantly, she remembered the name pop up every so often with controversial articles that arose monsters in republicans, "He's a liberal… talented with his words but doesn't take into account of the other side of the coin. Seeing the opposition is what makes a good journalist." She responded with a shrug that finally made Frank flicker a grin. Only for a millisecond.

"So you're not a fan?" Frank's gruff voice was hopeful.

She shook her head, shivering with her arms crossed yet, "No, I think he's a fantastic writer, he just needs to open his eyes a bit more."

"Girl's got an opinion. I like it."

The soft voice hummed from the corner of the room, making Gabriella whirl on the balls of her shoes and took sight of a man stepping from the shadows that drew beside the filtered shades. Reflexively, her heart pounded wildly in surprise which caused her to immediately unwind her arms and press her hand against her chest to steady the pitter patter of her breath. His rugged, curly hair shined as he entered the light – his eyes blazed bright blue as he looked upon her like a teacher gazing at his star pupil. After calming herself, Gabriella awkwardly shifted her gaze yet managed to keep him in her line of vision. Frank didn't seem to think it was bizarre for this strange man to be in his office, instead he rolled forward again with his knuckles tainted white.

"Montez, meet Jeremy Allan." Frank practically seethed.

Gabriella's mouth hung open stupidly as Jeremy chuckled a charming laugh. She immediately felt a blush rush upon her cheeks with mortification at her words, "Mr. Allan! My God, I'm…"

"…exactly as I imagined the person I've been reading for the past two months." he beamed, holding out his hand and Gabriella immediately shook it, star struck, "Gabriella, right?"

She nodded with trembling fingers she clasped behind her back to keep from embarrassment again, teetering on her toes to contain her excitement she was standing before someone so elite, "I'm really sorry Mr. Allan."

"For what? Having an opinion?" He asked, folding his arms over the front of his leather jacket and leaned against Frank's desk as though it were simply a counter.

It was then that Gabriella finally took him fully in. By the lines growing from the corners of his tear ducts, she could tell he had seen too much for his young age of mid thirties. With his hair that flopped lower than Jason's, he had an aurora of rebellion and humor. There was an allure to him, given he was relatively attractive but by no means worthy of comparison to anyone like Troy. Thin muscles popped from his arms by age, though he wasn't bulky enough to be considered buff. The most appealing feature was his smile: bright white with the tips of his lips curling towards the ceiling with mischief.

Gabriella shrugged, "I didn't mean to insult you."

Smiling again, Jeremy raised his bushy eyebrows, "If you think that's an insult, you should read my critics."

In the case that he believed she was a stalker, Gabriella didn't want to admit she had in one of her classes. Instead, she took to looking down at her brown flats and tried to come up with the most logical explanation for _why _a writer with Jeremy's status would know her by full name. Unsteadily, her breath came in short spasms and the excitement in her chest began to bubble in giant pops. Frank seemed to notice – for her coughed obnoxiously to prove that he was disapproving of her lacking response towards the journalist. In contrast, Jeremy was bemused by the flush adoring her cheeks and trailed his bumpy hand over the surface of the darkened wood.

She assumed there was some sort of plot behind his unexpected arrival, therefore she looked back up at him with curiosity pulling at her temples, "Montez, take a seat." Frank instructed after a moment of heavy silence.

"We should get some coffee," Jeremy randomly suggested, clearly used to the speedy pace that was occurring just behind the blinds, "You want some coffee?" He acknowledged Gabriella, who quickly shook her head. It was already into the afternoon and she would most likely not sleep due to pre-flight nerves anyways – adding coffee would only be detrimental to her anticipation of interrupted sleep.

"No, thank you." She declined politely.

Jeremy pushed off and strode over to the corner he had been in moments before, Gabriella know noticed that Frank's personal coffee machine was fired up and steaming a thick sent of java. She watched him pull at the brown belt of his jeans before pouring himself a cup, "Frank?" He asked, which was replied with a grunt, "What was that?"

The mind of a profiler was working in overdrive: handsome, witty, coconscious. His appearance, however, didn't fit. By the way he dressed; he didn't seem to care about the money that he racked in daily - though Gabriella also considered this was to please her. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off with expensive clothes to flash while walking through the small doors to The Tribute. It was clear that the smile wasn't intended to woo her or flirt; his eyes twinkled in a way that did not reflect lust. The coffee he had offered, it was a peace offering. There was nothing cynical about his stance – his hips were turned to her that he had full interest. These subtleties that would normally go overlooked clearly pointed in one direction of why he had traveled thousands and thousands of miles to see a lowly intern…

… He had a proposition.

Instinctively, her heart hammered wildly against her chest as she watched him perch on the edge of Frank's desk once again, "You're from my side of the country, how's New York treating you?" He asked while easing back, taking a long sip from the navy mug. Two holes were burning into the side of her head as a result of the deathly lasers coming from Frank.

"It's um," Gabriella sucked in a hot breath to keep her voice from rattling, "It's an adjustment… but I've been successful,"

Jeremy chuckled with a nod, "I can definitely see that," his eyes averted straight ahead of him as he brought the ceramic to his lips again, "You know, about eight weeks ago," he smacked his lips together, "one of my leading journalists threw a really thin newspaper on my desk…"

Another disapproving cough from Frank, "Oh?" Gabriella asked, curious as to why The Los Angeles Times would have taken interest in their little paper.

"Apparently, an intern cracked the story of Daniel Adam's affair and got an inside look into the mind of his whore," he said with another proud grin. Gabriella felt a surge of triumph in her own veins, the butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly at his words, "And I'll tell yah, I was pissed that some twenty-three year old from Boston University managed to nail it before _The New York Times _did." He added emphasis to the paper.

Gabriella swallowed her tongue, feeling her throat close up, "I guess I was in the right place at the right time."

He wiggled his eyebrows, "Apparently you're just one lucky girl who's been in the right place for a senator heart attack, psycho schizophrenic being tossed in jail, and even had time to write about a Christmas parade in Brooklyn."

She didn't bother mentioning that it just so happened to be after Troy had early Saturday morning practice with the warriors and she was waiting outside for him, "You've been following me." Gabriella repeated, her trachea closing with every second that passed. None of this seemed possible, dreamlike instead of reality. This was impossible – one of the biggest newspaper editors was not talking to her right now, and about _her work_.

Jeremy placed his mug down and sent the full fury of his blue eyes upon her, "For the past eight weeks I've been watching your progression, your triumphs. Gabriella Montez, I'm impressed. I haven't seen such talent and _drive _for perfection in a long time," her heart was a tribal drum now as his words seemed to swirl around her, "And Frank's informed me that your internship is coming to a close, which leads me to why I'm here..." Frank stiffened in his chair, clearly not impressed with the way this conversation was taking a turn.

Gabriella, however, was breathless. On the edge of her seat, she leaned towards the man as if he was her messiah, "Yes?"

"Gabriella," Jeremy said simply, "I wanna discuss with you about accepting a position at The Los Angeles Times."

* * *

Gabriella could remember the moment she found out she received the internship for The Tribute. She had been seated upon her couch with her legs tucked tightly beneath her and the latest best seller in her hands. After dropping the book when she answered the phone, her heart had started in rounds of rapid palpitations – she thought she was going to faint after the phone clicked shut on the other line. Immediately, she had squealed, which caused her neighbors to bang broomsticks on the walls in order to shush her. She hadn't been sure of what to do or who to call, so instead she left a burn mark in the tiny flat where her feet had dug into the depths of the carpet after her vicious pacing. It was surprising that she hadn't fallen through the floorboards in her wake.

Much like she was doing on the sidewalk that afternoon.

"Gabriella! Gabriella, you need to breathe…." Jason coached while watching her march from side to side with her eyes big and fearful.

Gabriella whirled around, her face hot despite the frosty air and her eyes black with fright, "Breathe, Jason? _Breathe?_ How do you expect me to focus on breathing when I was just offered a job at the fucking Los Angeles Times?" The panic in her voice leaked with each syllable spoken. Her pants came in large puffs of clouds while people walked about their days on the sidewalk perpendicular to the ally they occupied. Little was comforting, even with the bright sunshine filtering through the shadows of home of The Tribute beside them.

Jason leaned forward, catching her in her path and placed his hands upon her shoulders to soothe her. It didn't seem to be working, for Gabriella just looked passed him in the sunlight that teased the New Yorkers of warmer days. To rectify this, Jason cupped her cheeks in a not so intimate way that forced her to look up at him, "Gabriella. You should be happy, not having a nervous breakdown. The LA Times looked for you, babe. They want you…" His words made her dizzy and the world around her began to spin. Thankfully, Jason had a tight hold to keep her from crashing to the ground.

"It's not possible," Gabriella said with her long hair flowing to mask her face that cast down, "This isn't real."

His arm slung around her shoulder in a comforting way, "Gabriella… this is real. You're the best writer here. I'm surprised they haven't come earlier."

Gabriella gazed up at him through her thick lashes and smiled with gratitude, "Thank you," she paused, taking a breath to steady herself, "Frank's pissed."

His dark eyebrows furrowed as he let her go and leaned against the gray brick of the building, "Why? I thought he'd gloat."

She felt slightly uncomfortable admitting the talent she held, so she awkwardly shrugged her shoulders, "He uh… he offered me a job here if I suddenly became insane and wanted to stay here instead."

"Who knew?" he chuckled, an illumination still glittering in his eyes, "So… when do we pack your bags?" Jason asked, rubbing his hands together eagerly – or to create heat.

It was then that Gabriella stared down at her fingers and began to play with them. She couldn't face Jason, no matter how many times she replayed her confession in her head, this wasn't going to be easy. For a long moment, she remained silent with no intention of breakage. Jason curiously looked at her, with both perplexity and concern. When the words came out, they were slow and quiet – too afraid to admit, "We don't start packing anything, yet. I haven't said yes."

With his mouth agape and his dark eyes widened in horror, Jason nearly turned white at her confessional. She wasn't sure if this was due to the shock or the disappointment, but either way it made her take a step back in wary just in case he might explode. Instead, however, Jason shook his black mop and took her shoulders again to amplify the intensity of his stare, "What the fuck are you smoking Montez? This is _The Los Angeles Times _we're talking about. Of course you'll damn well say yes, so stop pulling my dick. You've wanted this since you first stepped through those goddamn doors." It was one of the few times his voice was seriously dangerous, and it frightened her slightly.

"I know, Jason. I know," she sighed, her tone desperate, "I know this is huge."

"Then why the fuck do you not know?" He snapped back, clearly frustrated by her indecision.

Gabriella swallowed and took a deep breath. The sun drew a long shadow beneath her nose and onto the wool material of her coat, but no warmth accompanied it. She looked up at him with the most conviction she could muster, "I moved from Boston six months ago Jase… I've finally established myself in the New York setting. Writers from The New York Times knew my name at the Douglas trial… packing up and leaving again in less than a year?"

"This is the chance of a lifetime, Gabriella." He said darkly.

She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, "If I'm really as good you say I am Jase, there will be other chances. But I've made friends here… I can't just leave now after finally being settled."

"Gabriella, you have to go." Jason pleaded with her. Clouds of carbon dioxide swirled around her with every breath puffed.

She gazed up at him through her long lashes, "I'm happy here Jason," she whispered as she placed her hand on his chest and smoothed out the seam, "If I need anything I can always knock on the door across the hallway, if I'm in the mood for splurging on clothes I can call up Sharpay, I know my best friend will always be around if I need him," he smiled sadly while Gabriella bit her lip, "And I'm in love with someone I don't think I can live without anymore. I can't imagine leaving all that behind."

Again, Jason shook his head but placed a hand on top of hers in support, "Bolton's going to be on my side."

"Which is exactly why you need to keep your mouth shut and not tell him." Gabriella instructed firmly, a cold chill ran up her spine.

He let out an annoyed sigh, "Gabriella, you have to tell him."

"Jeremy is giving me two weeks to think about it, when my internship ends," Gabriella explained steadily, "If I decide yes, I fly out to LA on that Monday. If I say no, Frank gets to keep me and I start full time that day."

"You have to just…"

She finally let go of his jacket and stepped back, careful not to stumble over rock in the process, "The only thing I have to do is hop on a plane tomorrow morning with my boyfriend and enjoy the weekend with his parents. I'm going to try to impress them and keep from getting arrested in the airport for bringing a liquid more than three ounces. I'm going to enjoy myself and not tell Troy about this until I've figured it out, got it?"

Her arms folded with finality when she finished. Jason opened his mouth one more time, but shook his head after deciding against it, knowing she wouldn't budge. With a last shrug, Jason turned to her and said darkly, "It's your funeral."

* * *

The luggage was packed. The tickets rested upon his counter. The alarm was set.

Now all he had to do was wait.

"I'm telling yah, this guy was like, nine feet tall and had a giant shark on his arm," Jason explained as he tightened his grip on the brunette that stood beside him with her apron tied tightly around her tiny waist, "I thought he was going to eat me."

On the couch in the dim lighting, Troy chuckled as he felt Gabriella's head peaked from around the protection of his bicep and glared at her friend with a shake of her head, "Jase, the guy was five nine and had a sticker of a goldfish his daughter stamped on him before he left for work." She teased, rolling her coffee eyes and settling back into the curve of his chest.

"You're a buzz kill, I hope you know that." Jason stuck out his tongue just in time for Gabriella to flip him off, receiving a roar of laughter from the group surrounding them.

Troy had returned from his practice with The Warriors to find a slightly frantic Gabriella and her face dug into the depths of his closet to see if she had left her favorite cardigan with his jumbles of running and basketball sneakers. Her hair had been frazzled and her eyes wide with a panicked expression, one he hadn't expected from someone who had flown before. It had taken him several minutes to calm her down after her sat her upon the bed and promised her they'd find it. She blamed her bizarre behavior on the airline nerves, but Troy watched her eyes dart rapidly around the bedroom with curiosity until she finally realized she had left it draped over her bed at her own apartment. It was then that Troy realized he needed to distract her from her hesitations and decided to call up Chad and Taylor. Quickly, Jason, Zeke and Sharpay joined in the party as they arrived at the coffee house to listen to an early hour of Angie and Kelsi play, and were now gathered in the dim lighting.

Gabriella shrugged, "The truth is my job, remember?" She reminded him playfully.

Jason, however, did not match her grin. Immediately, Troy noticed the tense exchange between them and mentally stored it for further questioning. Their eyes never left each other and it brought a slight discomfort to bubble in his core, "I remember alright. Just wanna make sure _you _do."

Quickly, Gabriella ducked back into his shoulder and pressed an unexpected kiss to his sweatshirt. Smiling to himself, Troy looked over her head to see Taylor checking her watch from the opposite end of the furniture, "What time do you have to leave again?"

"The plane leaves at eight." Troy casually replied, meeting Gabriella's eyes with a bright smile to prove his excitement, "Think you can get up that early?"

Gabriella giggled, "I'll manage. You start snoring at 5:30 anyways, so I'll be up."

"Ugh, too much information." Chad stuck his tongue out as though he was disgusted by Gabriella's words.

The easiness of their conversations, however, quickly dissipated when the door to the coffee shop rung. It was bizarre that someone would enter when the shop was barren due to the late hour of the evening, but Troy didn't have to guess who it was when he suddenly heard a venomous mutter from a large chair across the way, "What the fuck is _she _doing here?"

Simultaneously, Troy and Gabriella whipped their heads around to see Alicia lingering towards the door with an awkward stance. Their eyebrows both narrowed, completely perplexed by who had invited her to the outing. Again, in sync, Troy and Gabriella looked at each other with confusion. She raised her brow to question him if he had called her, but Troy jerked his head in a shake and surveyed their friends to see who the perpetrator was. When Taylor smiled warmly with a wave, it was clear who had committed the crime – even if Chad pointed towards his girlfriend and mumbled, "Shoot her, not me."

He felt a nudge in his side that made him turn back to Gabriella. She had a small curl of a smile on her lips, not happy so much as accepting, "Go. I'll be here when you get back."

Troy thankfully nodded and wordlessly kissed her forehead, "I'll be right back." He whispered before detangling himself from her clutches.

"Get her the fuck out of here Bolton." Sharpay hissed, not even bothering to keep her voice down to be polite. This made him roll his eyes as he sent one last encouraging look towards Gabriella before weaving through the intricate maze of tables. The further he drew from his friends, the colder the air became while he approached the woman standing beside the door.

"Hey! You didn't tell me you were coming!" Troy greeted casually, revealing neither if he was happy or upset by her presence.

Alicia simply shrugged, her chestnut hair was twisted into an intricate do and he finally noticed her black cage heels – far too dressed up for a simple meeting at the coffee house, "Tay invited me, but Angie and the boy are going out for drinks and asked me to go yesterday. But I wanted to stop by and wish you and Gabriella off."

When she said his girlfriend's name, she glanced over his shoulder and sent a skeptical Gabriella a stiff wave. In response, Gabriella gave the worst impression of happiness back with a wave of her hand as well – Sharpay would have been disappointed with her acting skills if she didn't hate Alicia so much. He grinned softly at his best friend and glanced down at his vintage Converses, "Thanks. It's only gonna be a few days."

"I know, but it's exciting." Alicia's voice was like metal, robotic as she looked up at him with glistening green eyes, "Say hi to Jack and Lucille for me."

He nodded, "I will."

In true best friend fashion, Troy enclosed her in a tight squeeze. The back of his neck was burning with Gabriella's glare, but he ignored it and knew that she was doing her best to remain civil. As he turned his head, his nose found the crevice in the strands of her straight hair pulled back. The scent of lavender filled his nostrils – a scent that always accompanied her. He couldn't explain the reason for their prolonged hug, but Troy gripped tightly before Alicia finally pulled away with a wry smile and glossy eyes before she finally took a step back and whispered, "Goodbye Troy."

Slowly, he watched her turn towards the door once again and walked into the unforgiving night.


	27. Minute Twenty Seven

**A/N: I know my updates are coming really fast lately, but I'm practically finished writing this story and now have a ton of chapters piled up on my computer, so I need to post them otherwise I'll be updating this til December. It's not really what a lot of authors are doing right now, but I hope no one really minds that I might be going back to my Protecting Fate update scheduale, probably a little longer between. So if the quick updates are too difficult and you just need to read chunks at a time instead of leaving me your thoughts after every chapter, I totally understand. I'm just blessed that you're taking the time to read this in the first place. Thank you so much for your support and faith in me. I hope you like these next few chapters – this one is going to set up for an extremely interesting ride. Thanks for reading and your reviews! ****And I wish this site would put my hyphens in my chapter titles.**

* * *

Between reading Time and Cosmopolitan magazines while listening to the soft snores of Troy beside her, she realized Gabriella had absolutely no idea what Albuquerque would be like.

While buzzing through each page, she came up with two main scenarios of how the Bolton resident would be. From the little information she had gathered, his father had pushed him hard enough in high school, but never to the point of obnoxiousness and overbearing. His mother was caring, but wasn't naïve to the misdemeanors he committed in high school: staying out too late, drinking with friends at a parents-free venue, sneaking a girlfriend into the house while they were away. By the way she had pressed for Troy to visit on the countless phone conversations, it was clear that she did indeed love him. This left Gabriella slightly wary of how they were going to accept her, or reject her, when she first stepped into the baggage claim and saw them for the first time and was introduced with bright smiles and meaningful hugs.

Three hours later, Lucille Bolton still held that same, blinding smile that reached the tip of her milky brown eyes when she turned around and placed the knife she was using to slice bread down upon the black granite of the island in the kitchen. She beamed when she caught sight of Troy leading a slightly timid Gabriella through the darkened hallway, matching her grin almost identically, "Got everything unpacked?" She asked with excitement leaking through her tone as she turned towards the sink and began to chop a freshly bought carrot for the salad she was making, "Gabriella, did you see that I cleared out the top two draws of the dresser in your room? I just moved Jack's shirts into ours. You'd think Troy's room became a spare closet for him."

Rolling his eyes, Troy leaned up against the counter and jutted his hip out in an inviting way he wasn't even aware he was doing, "Mom, we're only here for four days… not four weeks."

"Oh hush Troy," she shushed while tossing the vegetables in a bowl within the chrome sink, "It's not every day your only son visits half way across the country."

"She's being melodramatic." Troy teased, wiggling his eyebrows until his mother slapped him with a dampened towel.

Lucille Bolton was an interesting character – not unusual or bizarre. Within the first few hours of getting to know the woman, it was easy to see that she definitely had spunk that Gabriella admired. She was feminine by the way her clothes curved to her body unharmed by a single pregnancy, yet raising a boy also toughened her skin and gave her a sporty vibe. Her hair, chestnut like Troy's, hung low enough to be past her shoulders. The beaming smile that she had passed down to her only son had shown brightly when they were first introduced, easing Gabriella's nerves. Lucille had hugged her like blood and immediately jumped into a conversation about her flight that branched in various directions while in the baggage claim. It made Gabriella warm inside to know that she had approved already.

She hadn't welcomed Gabriella into the family – she made it seem as though she had been there all along.

"Do you like Italian?" Lucille asked politely, smiling as the boiling water bubbling over the stove.

Biting her tongue to be sure she didn't mention the distaste she had for certain Italian people, Gabriella nodded while Troy fawned, "Mom makes the best tortellini… even better than that restaurant on Broadway you love."

"Troy always complains that he misses your cooking." Gabriella said warmly and eased into the decorative chair that was pushed up against the kitchen table. She glanced down at the yellow wood and unconsciously began to wonder how many times Troy had sat down in this exact spot to complete his homework or commence a project. Had he been seated here while Lucille pranced around the kitchen making beating meat and he confessed about his day? Did he ask for advice on the playground girl he was crushing on? Had he cried here when Emily was taken from him?

Lucille grinned, "If only he was that appreciative when he's home."

"I only complain because you never have anything in your fridge." Troy stuck his tongue out teasingly. Gabriella figured flipping him the bird was probably unwise in front of his mother she was trying to impress.

"Did Troy give you a tour already?" Lucille asked, waving the glinting knife around the kitchen as a representation of the rest of the house.

Nodding, Gabriella's eyes trailed over the ash wood that adorned the cupboards beneath the black granite stone. The house was modern, and in Gabriella's opinion, fairly large. The kitchen was open and directly faced the backyard were, surprise surprise, a full length basketball court covered the neatly cut grass. In a tree stood a sturdy tree house in which Troy offered to take her up in due time. Upstairs held the master bedroom and a creatively decorated office covered in the plaques and awards Jack had won during his coaching career. Although she was much more interested in the sea gold that ran the perimeter of Troy's room – located on the first floor.

She had made a promise to herself while Troy hummed a low snore in her ear within the hours that she was on the plane ride: no thoughts about Jeremy's offer or The Los Angeles Times. Of course, with the ultimatum that needed to be voiced in two weeks, it was difficult to maintain the bubbly attitude Troy had had that morning when he shook her wake and raced her to the bathroom to shower. By the way his eyes glittered and his smile shimmered white, she knew he was more than ecstatic to be back in his hometown. Therefore, he at least deserved her undivided attention. The laptop was closed to a shut, the pens had been left at the desk back in New York, and she was fully dedicated to the only story that mattered that weekend: his.

This was the chance of a life time, and she couldn't be more eager to begin collecting data. The resources were suddenly presented to her: two new witnesses who knew Troy Bolton better than anyone. It was suddenly her mission – she refused to leave Albuquerque, New Mexico without discovering how Emily died.

"You're home is unbelievable Mrs. Bolton." Gabriella responded while sliding her fingers over the glossy surface of the stone, a sincere smile stretched across her face.

"Lucille. Mrs. Bolton just makes me sound ancient," she corrected, even if she was in her early fifties – though didn't look a day over forty-six.

"You are ancient." Troy pushed off the counter to press a kiss to his mother's cheek – only receiving a bop on the head with the lettuce she was handling.

"You're not too old to have your mouth rinsed out with soap, Troy Alexander." She shook her vegetable at him in a scolding fashion. Gabriella giggled at the exchange, though mentally noted the revelation of their relationship. Had they been distant towards each other after god-knows-what happened, they wouldn't tease as they were. Lucille Bolton was obviously a key piece to the Troy Bolton puzzle, one that was located in a close proximity to his heart.

The woman in her sighed contently when Troy slipped an arm around her waist and peppered his own, lustful kiss against her cheek. Gabriella beamed like a bride on her wedding day, a glow that didn't go unnoticed by the only female Bolton. She remained silent, however, when Troy's hand slid into hers and nodded towards the double doors that led to the patio, "We're gonna sit outside til Dad comes back from practice and we can eat."

Lucille laughed, the sound was musical with the way she threw her head back, "It's too bad they're not playing tonight, you guys could have gone to the game." She commented, which induced a disappointment in Gabriella's stomach. She would have loved to see the gym that housed the star and the team that nursed him. But the cues and clues would have to wait, for Troy approached her with a loving grin before turning back to his mother.

"I watch adolescent boys play basketball almost every day of my life Mom; I think I can manage one night." He winked down at Gabriella before slinging his arm over her shoulder and stepping out into the cool, Albuquerque night.

* * *

Gabriella had eased into the family without a bit of awkwardness, just as Troy had predicted.

The year that followed his late fiancé's death had been difficult for Troy. Colors had been dulled, large crashes and pops made him duck and cover, and he had a constant pang of despair that pulsated through his veins. Just breathing without choking was a difficult task, let alone dating. Apart from the constant sexual contact with Alicia, which served as a distraction of real life, dating had not even been an option. Every other girl reminded him of her, like her ghost was set out to torment him until his own death. Never one to have a difficult time finding a pursuer, Troy found that his appeal had quickly disappeared and the winks he received were replaced with pitied looks. He hadn't noticed until he finally decided to pick up his life and carry it to a new venue in New York.

After another few months of mourning, he woke up one morning in his shared apartment to find that he was able to smell the black coffee that Chad left on the table. Blinking a few times, he glanced out the window to see that the yellow sunshine was beaming brightly onto the dirty carpet of the floor – he hadn't even known it was beige. From that day on, sensations slowly began to awaken in him once again: the pale pink of the flowers fumed an aroma that appealed to him, the sound of taxi honking didn't make him want to dive into a bomb shelter, and he was beginning to notice the finer curves in life. As a celebration of life returning to his cheeks, he ran to the nearest barber shop and snipped his jock shag into spiky bang that stuck from his head. The cocky swagger he had previously sported had disappeared in the casket back in California, but he walked with confidence that began to earn him approving nods from the opposite sex. His muscles were once again exercised daily – and he quickly began a magnet once again.

His mother, thankful her son had broken from his numb and zombie state, was eager for him to find love once again. She constantly pestered him in the following years if he had found anyone who made his heart pitter patter. Unfortunately, the brief relationships he had after his fiancé's death were less than meaningful – they were to pass the time. Therefore, when he finally found the sparkle in Gabriella, Lucille had been overjoyed when she learned that there was someone special in his life. It was more, too, that Gabriella was someone with ambition and not a bimbo who only liked him for his… hair.

And by the way his mothers eyes glittered over the dining room table, he knew that she more than approved.

"So Troy tells me The Wildcats are headed to the championship in the next few weeks?" Gabriella asked while lifting the crystal glass of water to her lips. His father, Jack Bolton, swished his own drink in his mouth before nodding with a curled lip towards Troy with an impressed appearance upon his face.

"Sure is. We had a dip in the program a few years back, but the boys are really coming around now." Jack responded happily.

Though they had few similarities in their features, Jack and Troy were relatively alike. He knew Gabriella was mentally keeping tabs due to her curious personality and attentive cues. Dinner had been a perfect opportunity for her to get to know the family after Jack had bounced through the door like one of his precious basketballs. They had asked her questions about her childhood and ambitions, which she had returned with personal inquisitions of their journey to Albuquerque without pestering. An hour or so later, time had been lost in an awkward story of Jack and Lucille's meeting, Troy found himself entranced with the easiness of Gabriella's flow in the Bolton household.

"Like father like son." Gabriella grinned at Troy, tossing what was left of her curls not pulled into her half up do over her shoulder.

Beneath the dining room table, Troy slowly ran his sock over the surface of her jeans and settled on resting his foot atop of hers. Night had fallen, but the big bay windows illuminated with light from the hanging chandeliers from above. The polished wood upon the floors and walls provided a warm, homey atmosphere between the family, "Were you into sports as a kid Gabriella?"

Already knowing the answer, Troy leaned back against his chair as she shrugged, "Nothing serious. I played soccer when I was little but got hit in the face with a ball, so I quit."

Troy snorted while his parents laughed at her innocence, "That explains a lot." He mumbled from the corner of his mouth, only to earn him a slap of his bicep beneath the white, stripped button up he wore.

"That's alright…. Troy was so obsessed with basketball I had considered putting his mattress outside." Lucille commented, which brought a response of Gabriella's head snapping up with sudden interest.

"Really?" she asked, completely ignoring that he was still there, "Did he grow out of the phase?"

"Nope, he took it all the way to UCLA with him" his father explained proudly, "I'm surprised he didn't sleep in the Pauley Pavilion."

A light whirled in his head when he realized what she was doing. At first, he was slightly wary with the turn of direction in this conversation. The task he had given her on the balcony that night that felt like years ago instead of months was not completed, this was quite clear. What was hazy, however, was how much she had discovered. Obviously, if she had been smart, she would have used her internet resources, but how much did she know other than that he had a previous lover?

Did it really matter?

Their eyes locked for a heated moment, one that he couldn't exactly explain. She wasn't requesting to go any further, but it was confirmation that she was not trudging dangerous waters. That she wasn't pushing too far. In response, Troy slid his hand over her knee from beneath the table with a gentle squeeze upon her thigh. Instead of following with his encouragements, she grinned cheekily and said, "I'm sure the floorboards would have been extremely uncomfortable."

Troy shrugged, "I would have survived."

"Just like when you were crying on the entire way over here that you couldn't recline?"

Troy frowned and narrowed his brilliant eyes, "It was a long flight!"

"Yes, but was it really necessary to kick me every five minutes to tell me your butt was getting numb?" She asked incredulously and with an eye roll.

"How annoying." Lucille giggled with a wink sent towards Gabriella.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Mom. It's your job." Troy shot towards her, though he had pure amusement dancing over the surface of his face along with the others at the table.

"Not when she knows I'm right." Gabriella responded in a sing-song mockery. Her lips were to her glass of water when Troy pressed his foot down upon her toes, inducing a squeal from the journalist.

"No matter the time," Lucille injected with a bright beam of sincerity, "Jack and I are so happy to have you here, both of you."

At that moment, Troy felt a swell in his heart he couldn't pinpoint when his ceruleans connected with the coffee rims of Gabriella's irises. he couldn't help himself smiling over the little things she did, like adjust the sleeves of her off-the-shoulder scoop neck or twirl a finger around one of her black coils. It was the way the dim lighting of the dining room shined down on her olive skin to produce a golden glow that made his stomach melt to butter. Figuratively, his eyes were opened with a rush of love through his veins. He saw her with his family – the most vulnerable side of him was exposed to her and she eased into the scene without even a bump to climb. Never before had Troy felt the raw and pure emotion he was experiencing, and it made his heart swell. The power of her washed over him and he saw a brief flash of twenty years from now – gathered around this same table with older versions of themselves and a golden band around her left finger. But as quick and intense as lightning, the vision vanished and he was only left with the present.

Which was just as good.

"There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be." Gabriella promised sincerely, never faltering her gaze.

* * *

The room was dark, with a silver moon filtering through the glass doors and onto Gabriella's cheeks as she was sucked into the grogginess of consciousness. Her limbs were curled tightly in a huddle beneath the toasty covers she was unfamiliar with. With her eyes closed and her mind still pulling at dreamland, she snuggled further into the musky scent of the pillow she was foreign to, yet found herself craving it.

As she slowly brought herself from the hazy state she was in, she quickly remembered where she was and why the bed smelled so delicious. She briefly recalled her experience at dinner and fighting to keep her eyes open after the hours she talked with the Boltons. Troy had yawed obnoxiously, unsubtly informing them of the long flight they had taken then and the fatigue that travel brought. The two had excused themselves to his room, where they immediately stripped to their pajamas and climbed into his bed – which was a full instead of his queen back in New York, which only made them cuddle closer. Not long after, Gabriella had escaped to the world of sleep.

After blinking away sleep several times, she managed to focus on the red glow of the alarm clock that informed her it was 2:14 AM. The bed seemed too big, for she was able to arch her back without much trouble. This unnerved her, for where her boyfriend should have lay, the space was empty. Gabriella was not quite awake enough to rush to a panic, but her black curls did flop upon his barren pillow when she cranked her head around the long shadows of the room in order to hunt for him. The blackness that filled the corners and crevices made it difficult for her to pinpoint any exact object

Finally, she squinted when she took sight of the holy light that shined a halo around the dark silhouette standing in front of the billowing, red and yellow stripped curtains. Leaning up on her elbow with perplexity, Gabriella let the warm covers slip from her teal sports bra and called, "Troy?"

He didn't answer, but she could see the divots of his bare back tense at the croak of his name. Slightly wary, Gabriella sat up further and admired the broad shoulders and the way his gray sweats hung mysteriously off his boxers. His skin was blue with tragedy, yet elegantly beautiful to match his sapphires as he finally turned around silently – like the ghost he was.

A cold chill rippled down her spine when their eyes connected, an inferno of raw emotion pulsated between them. She swallowed her fear though, and held out a hand for him before summoning again with, "Troy? Come back to bed…"

Troy obediently obeyed, reaching out for her hand. When her fingers laced through his, they were cool to the touch as though he had been roused from bed for a length of time. Slowly, sensually, Troy climbed over the covers which forced Gabriella to slip back into a horizontal position. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach when Troy dipped his lips down and covered her mouth with his. His body encaged her over the comforter – each hand had been pushed up against her ear to steady his weight. There was a passion in the way his tongue flickered in and out of his mouth, caressing at the corners of hers and trailing along her bottom lip. Still slightly disoriented, Gabriella felt herself float to cloud nine and she reached up to cup the side of his frosty cheek.

"What's wrong?" Gabriella whispered when they finally pulled away and Troy rested his forehead against hers, breathless.

He looked at her a long time, the turquoise flecks within his eyes flickered over each curve and crevice to memorize her. Trailing her hand back to massage the nape of his neck, Gabriella stared back at him with as much care and devotion she could muster, "You should sleep, you had a long day." He mumbled and pressed a kiss beneath each of her eyes.

Gabriella swallowed her moan of frustration, trying not to push him to places he didn't want to go, "You need to stay in here then." Her fingers ran down the muscles in his arms, raising goosebumps.

"Demanding." He teased, but nonetheless kissed her forehead and wiggled beneath the covers to join her.

Their bodies immediately formed to each other, creating a friction that pulsed heat. Gabriella rested her head upon his bare chest, letting it rise and fall with his breathing. Every so often, he'd lean over and inhale the sweet scent of her hair that mixed with the fumes of his childhood. Gabriella allowed her eyes to close and sleep to slowly pull her under once again. She could feel his legs entwine with hers and his touch ghost down her arm, but reality began to fade into a whirl of dreams.

Just before Gabriella finally succumb to slumber, she felt two soft pillows of flesh connect with her temple and a soft mumble in her ear, "I hope you find what you're looking for."

"I intend to." Gabriella promised before finally slipping to unconsciousness.


	28. Minute Twenty Eight

**A/N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback last chapter! Your thoughts and theories are always so amusing to me.**

**So, I know in the past I've had readers mention how they pair music with chapters. Well, I decided to make a soundtrack for the story. It's in my profile, and I should give credit to Unproper Grammar for the idea. Although I don't have as unique and awesome music as she does, but I generally picked a song before writing a chapter and listened to it nonstop until my iTunes counts jacked up to obnoxious numbers. It should be noted that not every song fits a chapter perfectly or for its entirety. For example, "Remember the Name" is associated with chapter 11 basketball scene, but obviously not the coffee shop. The songs chosen where just what **_**I **_**listened to, so if they have absolutely no meaning to the chapter, well… you can just blame it on me being uncreative. Anyways… I hope you'll enjoy! **

**Those of you that are wondering, this story is going to be 39 chapters. It's completed now.**

**Thanks so much for reading, as always. This chapter's paired with the song "This Afternoon" and it's actually my favorite chapter in the whole story, so I really hope you enjoy it too!

* * *

**

By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Gabriella just wanted to be left alone.

Not that she didn't cherish every moment she spent with Troy and his parents. Within the past days, she had been introduced to a family that took her in as though she had belonged there all along. She had walked along the sidewalks with her hands laced tightly into Troy's without worrying about being mugged. Jack had taught her how to fix a busted drawer when she unhinged the one that rested beneath the telephone. Lucille had taken her grocery shopping while the father and son bonded over what was apparently a truck in the garage that Troy had been all too eager to be reacquainted with. Everything was perfectly domesticated, a little family that helped the others out when in need. It was flawless, and she was thankful to be surrounded by such wonderful people.

Her crave for isolation, however, brewed deeper than simply wanting privacy. While the Boltons lingered in her presence, it was difficult for Gabriella to hunt for objects or memories that may bring her closer to the revelation of Troy's past. She couldn't exactly sift through the family photos while Lucille was in the kitchen preparing dinner. She was certain that the happy-go-lucky aura would quickly fade if Emily was brought into the conversation. Therefore, she wanted to be sure that she avoided hounding his parents for information, even if they may hold the goldmine. Instead, Gabriella's focuses were on the most sacred place of Troy's childhood – it was just a matter of time that Gabriella would be allowed to tear apart the bedroom.

Unfortunately, as Gabriella walked at Troy's side with a bowl of sliced fruit that made her fingers prune, she knew there would be little opportunity to slip away from the family and escape to his room. Against her journalist instincts to pretend she was sick and just linger in the home while the family attended the small block party, she agreed to join them when they suggested it could be fun. Troy had informed her that he was certain the neighbors were just making an excuse to see him. She had rolled her eyes at his cockiness that seemed to be revealing itself more in Albuquerque than it's presence in New York.

"Isn't Albuquerque supposed to be warm?" Gabriella murmured out of the corner of her mouth, shivering in her fitted white tee that held a pastel pattern to it. The sun shined brightly upon her dark jeans and black flip flops, but the air was not the pure heat she had been anticipating when she discovered she would be flying to New Mexico.

"It's still winter Gab," Troy chuckled throatily, slinging his arm around her shoulders and frantically rubbing up and down her arm to create friction, "You want my sweatshirt?" He asked in reference to the black zip up he sported over his black v-neck.

Gabriella, feeling like a high school girl innocently escorted by her first boyfriend again, did her best not to blush so close to the parents that were walking in front of them, "I'm alright."

He retrieved his arm and nudged her with his elbow playfully, "Then stop complaining, and maybe I'll give you a cookie."

"A cookie?" She raised her eyebrows incredulously, "You're seriously bribing me with baked goods?"

Looking at the few houses they passed as they approached the seventies music that crackled through a battery powered radio, Troy leaned towards her ear so his breath was hot against her cheek, "I didn't want to bribe you with other methods while children are so close." He purred suggestively, nibbling on her ear in the process. Shivers rippled down Gabriella's spine as they turned towards another large house with balloons twirling decoratively upon the mailbox.

All x-rated thoughts had to be pushed aside when the foursome finally made it around the side of the ranch style home, taking sight in the crowd that clustered in lawn chairs around the lawn. Bob Marley swayed through the trees and wrapped around the excited children that bounced around the grass and bothered their parents who were throwing their heads back with laughter at an amusing comment. It was a fairly large party considering Troy believed the host was throwing it in order to make an excuse to see him specifically. Then again, with a celebrity status as a player of the Bruins, she shouldn't have expected anything less than a welcome home party.

"Well look here y'all, the Boltons finally decided to show up." A voice laced with a southern twang sung, causing the party-goers to turn in the direction that the family was marching. Not quite shy enough to cower but uncomfortable nonetheless, Gabriella shot Troy a wary look in hesitation. In response, he gave her an encouraging wink as the woman in an apron hurried towards them.

Even if she couldn't see her, Gabriella could hear the smile in Lucille's voice as she hugged the woman, "Sorry we're late Stel…"

Her apology was short lived, for the moment the woman's flaming muddy-red coils peaked through the window of Lucille's head, her eyes widened with pure disbelief and awe, "Well I'll be dammed…." She mumbled, her head shaking with pure astonishment as she gently pushed aside the only female Bolton. Both Lucille and Jack turned back, knowing smiles upon their faces when the woman continued to stare upon their son as though he rose from the dead. Gabriella subtly sidestepped as the woman finally made it to them to be certain she wouldn't be tackled in the line of fire when she threw her arms around Troy's study shoulders, glee dancing from her laughter, "Bless your heart boy, you're back!"

Chuckling, Troy made no hesitation to return the hug, "I couldn't stay away from your wings for too long, Stella."

The mystery woman pulled away, allowing Gabriella access to the tiny wrinkles that creased on the corners of her eyes. Her hair curled tightly, contrasting to Gabriella's long waves, with gray strands that hid within the mess. A floral long sleeve covered her top and pushed up her arms when she cupped his cheek with delight, "Oh my lord, you're even more handsome than the last time I saw you. You buzzed that scraggily mop…"

Running a hand through his shortened hair, Troy shrugged, "You like it?"

"You look like you just walked out of Hollywood. Hey y'all!" The woman suddenly spun around to yell. Jack and Lucille sunk into the sidelines as the occupants of the backyard stretched their heads to see what all the fuss was about, "Look who graced us with his presence!"

It was as though someone announced the president's arrival, for an explosion of cheers and excitement boomed from the guests. Immediately, the greeting rumbled against the earth. The children glanced at each other with confusion as their parents abandoned them to rush towards the ex-player. Clearly used to the attention, Troy merely laughed when the few men hurried to shake his hand, their wives not far behind to swoon over how old he has gotten. The small cluster formed quickly around Lucille and Jack to greet them as well, though the glory of the family seemed to belong to the youngest. Apparently, it wasn't every day a retired college basketball player returned from a busy city.

In the time that the neighbor's gathered, Gabriella quickly slipped into the backdrop. She awkwardly grabbed her elbow, clearly going unnoticed by the citizens of Albuquerque. Though she hardly minded; in fact, she enjoyed watching the scene transpire. Troy was illuminated by his old community; his charisma was more apparent now than she had ever experienced. Brief words were exchanged of how he had been, how the job was, and how New York was treating him. It was fascinating to Gabriella, absorbing her significant other's popularity while lingering in the back of the crowd to allow him room to entertain.

After a few minutes of small talk, the southern woman who had first announced his arrival hugged him after the brunt of the crowd once again began to filter back towards their respective places, "When did you grow up so fast?" She asked, looking up into his tanned face with mystery.

Finally, his eyes flicked towards Gabriella. Holding his stare for a long moment, she knew the answer to that question but didn't dare speak it allowed in front of the unknown. Instead of making a comment, however, Troy stepped in the opposite direction to close the distance between the two. He grabbed the woman's hands between his, a bright beam exploding from his face when he turned towards the journalist, "Stel? Can you come here for a sec, there's someone I really want you to meet…"

For the first time since their arrival, the curly-haired woman turned in her direction. Her mouth curled as Gabriella dropped her arm to attempt to produce confidence by opening her body up. She eyed Troy knowingly when he reached out with a gentle smile and laced their fingers together. Sliding his arm around her tiny waist, Troy pulled her close as he spoke, "Stella Carmichael… this is Gabriella Montez. Gabriella, this is Stella. She babysat me when I was a kid."

"Oh sweetheart," Stella cooed, bringing her hands around to yank her from Troy's grasp, "No wonder you never leave New York. She's prettier than a box of roses. Come here and give me a hug, honey."

"It's great to meet you." Gabriella sincerely grinned. Sure, she had only known the woman for less than ten seconds, but it was clearly obvious that she was going to enjoy the sweet taste of Deep South in the few hours they would be there.

"You should have told me you were bringin' your girlfriend! I wouldva fixed myself up more." She pushed back some of her flaming bangs. Quickly, Troy reclaimed his territory and enveloped Gabriella on his arm once again.

Again, Gabriella let out her all too famous laugh, "I'd pick jeans over a skirt any day."

Stella whirled to Troy with a wink, "That's it, she's a keeper. You hang on to this one, boy."

It may have been a joke, but the twinkle in his eyes proved something more. Tingles gurgled in her stomach by the way he looked at her, with the same praise and devotion he had the previous evening. Even within the bright sunshine and the colorful people around, the world momentarily faded to the two of them. Slowly, Troy's hand trailed down the surface of her waist to maintain all possible contact. She felt an uneven pitter patter of her heart when his lips leaned over and brushed against her temple, though never once removing the inferno that burst between them when he passionately responded, "I intend to."

* * *

"I'm so happy y'all decided to hang out with a bunch of old farts tonight," Stella grinned brightly as she leaned back against the lawn chair so the silhouette of her hair glowed against the orange sunset behind her. A drink rested against her leg and she was angled away from the house, "Honey, are you sure you don't want me to get you a chair for the big show?"

Upon the lawn, Gabriella shook her head and felt the tips of her cascading hair tickle her bare arms. The night was turning cool, but with her legs curled beneath her on the plaid blanket, she found herself strangely warm. With Lucille on her left and Stella on her right, they blocked the light breeze. The radio still hummed on the back porch where some of the men sat smoking cigars or some of the women pecking for left over dessert. A handful of the children, weary from their long days of bouncing around the yard, nestled in their mothers' bosom while peaking towards the star-dotted sky. Against the music, an uneven thump of a ball against the pavement was a constant reminder to keep glancing towards the basketball hoop, seeing her boyfriend attempting to teach a five year-old how to make a jump shot.

"I'm comfortable down here." Gabriella promised, stretching her legs out so her black flip flop dangled off the edge of her toe.

Stella puckered her lips after taking a drink from her amber colored glass, "You're in for a real treat. Wayne used to shoot off fireworks every Fourth of July back in Alabama. He and Old Darrell had a war worse than the civil." She shook her head in reminiscing.

Lucille laughed, wiggling her eyebrows down at Gabriella, "Remember when Jack's hair lit on fire because he wanted to try it?"

"I can still hear his screamin'" Stella tapped Lucille's arm fondly, "And Troy cut his hair so he could look like his daddy."

Gabriella shot a look to see that Troy was crouched before the blonde boy, grinning wildly while pointing up at the hoop. She couldn't help but imagine his innocence childhood in which he ran to his mother and Stella with a chunk of his chestnut strands in his hands, "I would have killed to see that." Gabriella said between giggles.

"It was terrible." Lucille smiled fondly at her son's teaching skills.

Cranking her head in the darkness in order to see, Stella clasped her long fingers together to allow the setting sun to shimmer off her cherry red nail polish, "Oh would you look at that. Looks like Joey's gonna be our basketball next star with lessons from that boy."

Suddenly, Gabriella's head perked up – which almost caused her to ram her head against the side of Lucille's chair. Her heart, as it always did when Troy's past was referenced, began to pitter patter unevenly against her chest. The journalist suddenly listed series of questions she formulated for this iconic figure in Gabriella's life. She was so eager that she didn't notice Lucille's raised eyebrows and curious tilt of her head while Gabriella whirled her head to luck up at the Alabama native, "You followed Troy's games at UCLA?" Gabriella asked in a shaky voice, though she did her best to remain nonchalant.

"Honey, Wayne and I took a road trip with these two," she nodded towards Lucille, "for his very first game. With the amount of time he lived in front of that hoop, I knew he'd shine. We used to watch him every night on the box. It's just too bad about his knee."

Gabriella froze, cocking her plucked eyebrow with confusion, "His knee?" She asked incredulously, blind to the burn Lucille drilled into the side of her head.

Stella nodded solemnly, "Sure thing. If he hadn't had surgery on his knee, he'da been drafted for sure."

Surgery? No, that was impossible,

Unable to help herself, she lifted her eyes to see the sharp edges of Lucille's lasers beaming into hers. There was a flip of her stomach and she immediately averted her gaze to the ground. Picking at the grass between her fingers, Gabriella's face felt hot like she was caught in a crime. Her breath came in short spasms, unable to accept this idea that contradicted every theory and hypothesis. Had she been wrong all along? Was Troy's secret as simple as a knee tear?

It was a lie. Gabriella had run her fingers over the surface of his entire body and kissed his bronze skin enough to know there was no scar on his leg that would lead her to believe an incision had been made. A cover, Gabriella figured, had been told in order to keep from the truth of his disappearance from the court. She had been so certain that Emily's pregnancy had been the cause of his abandonment. But then why was Stella so sure on his injury? Her mind suddenly reeled over every experience she had seen Troy run – there was no limp. His body was unscathed from the waist down. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself, however, the second guess of his tragedy bubbled in her stomach.

That was, until she looked up to see his arms swinging the giggling boy around the air with a pure fatherly aura.

The doubt was crushed when Troy enclosed the boy in his muscles, laughing blissfully. A sapphire sparkle broke through the twilight as he looked upon the child. With hands that tripled the boy's, he held him as though the world revolved around the tiny grasp. Words could not be heard, but Gabriella could see the effect youth produced upon. His skin, normally golden, sparkled and shined as though the sun burst through each of his pores. Gabriella felt her breath catch when he placed the boy to the floor and reached his hand out so the pair could race towards the grass. A natural instinct had taken over her lover, as though he had prepared himself previously for this experience and fell short.

Troy _had_ impregnated Emily before she died. By his interactions between the five year-old boy and the basketball hoop, Gabriella was certain.

"Gabriella? Sweetheart you look pale."

Gabriella swallowed, unable to think rationally or grasp on the coherent words of Lucille. She took steady breaths to rid of the devotion she felt as she gazed upon him that moment. There was suddenly nothing more she wanted than to rush over and throw her arms around him, giving her deepest sympathies for his lost child. But she had to remain seated when he passed off the boy to his selective parents. She watched with admiration as he shook hands with the father and kissed the mother's creamy cheek before finally turning back towards the spot she was seated in.

For the second time that day, the world fell around her when Troy slowly began his journey towards her with a small smirk upon his face. His black shirt curved under his belt and his bronze skin was bright in the darkness. There were shouts and laughter around her when Wayne attempted to capture everyone attention. Gabriella, however, was much more focused on the way Troy's jeans hung low on his hips and the way he looked at her as though the universe was pathetic compared to her. Like a magnet in her chest, Gabriella rolled up when Troy dropped to his knees and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck to bring her in for a sensual kiss, whether his mom was seated behind them or not.

"Well would you look at that…" Stella's voice was far away when Gabriella placed her hands upon his sturdy shoulders to keep from falling, "Our boy's in love."

Just as her words were spoken, a bang exploded into the night sky. With the unexpected flare, Gabriella's heart jumpstarted and she yelped in surprise. Troy, laughing at her shock, looked upwards to see the glittering crimson and ivory lights erupt above. There were "ooos" and "ahhs", but Gabriella was fixated on the way the fireworks shined off his face and glistened in his eyes when he dropped his head to hunt for her mouth again just after mumbling, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." She whispered when they took a breath.

Troy grinned madly, making it difficult to kiss. Therefore, he settled on sitting behind her and slithered his arms around her back. The contort of his muscles made her feel safe, so she leaned back into his chest, Troy slinging his arm around her waist protectively, and absorbed the beauty of the night sky in the arms of the man she couldn't live without.

* * *

"Thanks for coming tonight." Troy said when they stepped into the Bolton kitchen an hour and a half later. Gabriella, blind to the world due to the lights that had been turned off, placed a steady hand on the counter. She twirled in the direction of his voice, knocking into the island moments before the lights illuminated the kitchen as she was caught squinting into his face, "I know it's not lying out on a beach or whatever for vacation, but it meant a lot to me."

"Are you kidding?" Gabriella asked incredulously, stepping towards him with an animated smile, "I got to meet the people you grew up with while eating free food. Stella's my new favorite person in this world and the fireworks were incredible. Troy, it wasn't a beach, but it was just as good."

His cheeky grin was enough to tell her he was elated by her words, but he attempted to be nonchalant when he joked, "Sucking up will get you nowhere Montez." He mumbled, leaning down to capture her lips with his. Sighing into the kiss, Gabriella slithered her fingers up the muscles that were covered by his cotton shirt and linked them behind his neck. She was hypnotized by the way his mouth moved against hers, probing in just the right places without suggesting any more than the moment.

When they pulled away, Gabriella lingered a few moments longer to revel in the tingles that surged up her spine. Finally though, she opened her eyes just in time to see Troy kiss her forehead and rub his thumb tenderly against the back of her palm, "Look, I hate to do this to you, but I need to change the oil in my truck."

She rolled her eyes, "That damn truck."

He scowled, "Don't hate. Anyways," he hesitated, looking deeply into her eyes in a way that didn't seem normal for the information he was giving, "Knowing my parents and the neighbors, they might not be back for another hour. Do you have something to do for work or whatever?"

Momentarily guilty for not telling him the exciting news of the Jeremy's offer, she was quick to respond, "No. No work."

Troy swallowed, "Well… are you going to be able to entertain yourself? Find something to do… _alone_?"

It dawned on her.

Suddenly, Gabriella's heart stopped beating when her eyes jerked up to meet his. The stare he was giving her, the look that he was reading her actions carefully pierced into her. Her mind was already spinning – trying to grasp the situation and remain calm while her nerves were practically leaping from her body. The world became hazy and Gabriella realized this was her chance, her opportunity to finally dig as she had intended when she first arrived. With her blood running cold and her hands now shaking, Gabriella nodded all too vigorously, "Yes…. Yes… " She practically panted, which made Troy slightly more uncomfortable.

"Kay. I'll be in the garage if you need anything," he leaned over and kissed her temple, squeezing his eyes shut as though he was taking advantage of the last moments of innocence. Doing her best not to push him away, Gabriella looked up into his eyes once more as he whispered, "Feel free to use whatever you need to." With that, he turned on his heels and marched towards the direction of the garage – his footsteps left echoes in their wake.

Frantically, Gabriella whirled around as soon as the door closed and narrowed her sights on the bedroom door that hung ajar. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to be certain that Troy wasn't lurking in the shadows watching her, and immediately sprinted towards her destination. Unfortunately, whilst consumed with the task at hand, she didn't notice the division of the gray carpet and the hardwood. The ground came much sooner than she expected when she stumbled to the floor, her wrist twisting when she reached out to brace herself and landed onto her side.

"Shit…" Gabriella groaned as she rolled over, staring at the four white panels that formed a cross of blue paint on the ceiling. The same colors matched the walls, though it was difficult to tell with the decorations of pictures and calendars were hanging. She sighed, rolling upwards onto her butt but was careful not to bang her head against the mahogany dresser that was tucked tightly in the corner next to the large white window that held a door as well. A television rested atop, and Gabriella briefly wondered if Troy spent his school nights flipping through sports channels instead of doing his homework as she was sure his mother would have asked him to do.

But that thought quickly disappeared – there were more important points to ponder. Like a gymnast, Gabriella twirled until she reached her feet once again, scanning the multihued of the furniture being reflected from the dozens of trophies adorning the tops of the walls. She raised her eyebrows before hurrying to leap upon the bed, feeling the squish of the mattress sink beneath her feet. Not quite sure what she was looking for, she scanned the tournaments and championships of past victories. Atlanta, San Diego, Miami, Georgetown: all cities that Troy had conquered with a sweeping layup. She picked up one specifically, wiping the dust off the plaque with the bottom of her shirt to admire. A single figurine stood with his knees bent and his eyes on the prize – the prize that Troy ultimately one in his glory days.

Although interesting and impressive, Gabriella let out a sigh when she replaced the award to its proper place knowing that his hardware would not reveal how his past fiancé passed. Teetering on her weight while surveying the room from the unique angle of the room, her eyes cast over the respective pictures hanging from the walls. Leaping from the bed, Gabriella hurried to survey each with detail - Chad's afro made several appearances. There were pictures with his hair floppy and his muscles not quite built yet, laughing whilst in company of his friends. They were clearly from his high school days with the immature appearance of his face that she knew had grown to be the attractive man he was now. Several showed up in black lighting at a concert or dressed in sweats, fatigued by a game he had played that night. The few that he was dressed in a tie and dress shirt never had a common date: Sadie Hawkins's held a brunette on his arm, prom a black haired beauty, homecoming a blonde.

Gabriella made her way around the perimeter of the room, finding no common female in any of the pictures. In fact, it seemed as though college had never existed in this room. There was a UCLA banner upon the wall and the obvious trophies, but the photographs stopped popping upon the walls after the beaming smile upon his dresser in his scarlet graduation robes. If she hadn't known he attended university, she would have thought he hadn't gone. That could either be due to his laziness once leaving Albuquerque, or because college was something he didn't want to remember.

Groaning in frustration, Gabriella glanced at the clock and mentally calculated how long it would take before Troy became bored of his truck and desired to let her ride him instead of he and his vehicle. She debated tearing apart his dresser, but knew that the only key to his past he might find there would be his much too small boxers. Biting her lip, she turned towards the closet and raised her eyebrows. Why not?

Once opening the doors, she caught sight of the suitcases they brought from New York in for storage. The closet itself hung sweatshirts and pants too big to sit in his dresser. Shoes piled in haphazard piles on the floor and extra basketballs threatened to roll out from the comers. However, none of these clothes caught her attention. Instead, her eyes were drawn to the cardboard box that was overflowing on the shelf next to his old gym bag. It wouldn't have made any difference, but she could see a crimson fabric hanging from the edge with the letters "WIL" exposed in white.

It was her last chance.

Quickly, she stumbled to remove the box from its hiding place and gently placed it on the bed. She hopped back onto the comforter, feeling her heart pitter patter unevenly while peering into depths of his childhood. Her nerves were stimulated and in over drive as she reached out towards the old uniform, though she pulled back as though it might bite her hand off if she got too close. Taking a deep breath, Gabriella grabbed his high school uniform and lifted it into the dimmed lighting. Stitched in white and black on the back was the bold "14" that defined his life. The fabric still had a hint of his musky scent, as though the ghost of his past lingered within the arms and curled around the seams. Her hands burned as though she was holding the Holy Grail. Maybe for him, it was.

But nothing of a dead girl.

Beneath the uniform were newer pictures by the way his muscles were bulging and his body was dressed in Carolina blue instead of scarlet red. No Emily. Again, there were multiples of his guy friends, teammates. No Emily. Her heart skipped a beat when Alicia suddenly popped into these photographs, of which she quickly tossed aside and continued her hunt. Still no Emily. Concert stubs, sunglasses, shot glasses: insignificant items and no common girl.

Maybe everything she had thought was a lie. Maybe Stella was right – the biggest secret was a knee injury.

Maybe her story was just that – a story.

She grabbed two chunks of her curls and felt her tears burn as she attempted to muffle her scream in anger. The hours she spent obsessing about Troy's past, they suddenly felt like wastes of time. The Google report, what if it was nothing more than a made up story to cause controversy? What if there was no Emily? What if Troy's reasoning for screwing Alicia was simply because he was a dick. Her skin boiled as though it was tortured, and she did her absolute best to keep from bursting into sobs. She felt betrayed and used… a failure to the task she had set out to complete was worthless and pathetic. She failed.

Gabriella couldn't help it any longer – she chucked the picture of his arm around Alicia against the wall in pure hatred, watching as it floated to the floor in a ghostly sway and screaming, "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" to no one. Her heart hammered wildly as she pulled her slender legs to her chest and buried her head into her jeans, fighting to keep some control. There was no story behind Troy's past. It was a simple cover up for a knee injury. The baby, the girl: none of it existed. It was over. She failed.

That was, until the soft voice rang from the door in a haunted whisper, "She's right here."


	29. Minute Twenty Nine

**A/N: Ummm wow... I don't even know what to say (as always). The response for the last chapter was unbelievable. Thank you, so much. Now I'm nervous for the rest of the story to see how you take it. Thank you for trusting me and your support - you guys are the best readers an author could ask for. Thank you. Enjoy, I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.

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In the past two days in the household, Gabriella never thought she would see Lucille Bolton's face look like death itself.

For a moment, Gabriella stared dumbfounded at the woman standing within the threshold of the door. Dark shadows drew long lines from the hallway, causing an eerie glow onto her normally illuminated face. Her face was paled; normally cinnamon eyes were hollow and black. Her skin, which was sun kissed by the Albuquerque light, was wrapped in a net of horror and white flesh. Ten years were added to her cheeks. No longer did she look like the warm mother Gabriella had known – she could have been mistaken for the reaper.

"Lucille!" Gabriella's heart raced as she leapt from the bed and placed her hands into the air as though at gunpoint. Her entire body trembled with fright as she quickly darted her head from left to right to be certain that no other evidence was revealed. But there was no hiding the box that erupted contents of Troy's past. For a brief moment, she considered rushing towards the closet doors and slamming them to a close to hide from the ultimate shouts that were to come. The invasion was clearly evident by the way the pictures pooled around her and the clothing was scattered every which way. In her head, curses were flying around as she mentally scolded herself for being so idiotic to leave the door open. She cringed, waiting for the explosion of his mother's rage that she was intruding on the family. Surely, she would be sent home on the first plane to New York City hours earlier than what she should have.

Silence passed between them. Lucille simply looked at Gabriella as though she did not even exist, as though a specter was in her memory instead, "I am so, incredibly sorry…" Gabriella pleaded when she finally found her voice, reaching out with peaceful hands as her long locks draped over her shoulders. She waited impatiently for her wrath.

But Lucille did not scream, nor did she yell. Instead, Lucille simply stared until she let out a sigh of defeat. In her panic and mortification, Gabriella hadn't noticed the manila envelope in her tight clutches until that moment. Certain that she wasn't going to be booted from the family by the way she hadn't blown up yet, Gabriella shakily tilted her head, "Lucille? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you or your family…"

The older woman swallowed before she finally took a step into the room. For a moment, Gabriella was tempted to rush to her side to catch her in case the wobbly knees gave out, but she managed to remain upright. Watching her was almost painful, however, her steps were uneven and she dragged her socks as she approached the bed. Finally, the look of torment dropped when Lucille's eyes cast downwards; her hands dragged over the untouched surface of the folder. Gabriella thought it would be best to remain quiet, just on the chance that she was still fuming and would explode at sudden movements. She could feel her pulse thump wildly against her wrist while the mother took a deep breath and looked up at her once again.

Instead of explaining her bizarre behavior, Lucille reached out and took Gabriella's hand with a sentimental gesture, "You're an incredible girl, Gabriella."

With her throat closed, Gabriella practically choked on nerves when she breathed, "I'm really…"

"I hope," Lucille started, not even realize Gabriella was in mid-apology when she drilled her gaze into her eyes, "I hope you won't think poorly upon me…"

If things weren't weird before, they had just become unreal. Gabriella cocked an eyebrow, but squeezed her hand back in encouragement, "Lucille, I could _never _think poorly upon you."

She smiled, though it was not out of happiness. Slowly, she pealed her grasp again and joined Gabriella on the bed, pushing aside the collection Gabriella had been digging through mere minutes ago and was left in frustration without success. Folding her legs beneath her, Lucille gripped the folder as though her entire life was held within the binds. Gabriella finally noticed how thick it was, and the intensity that she held such a flimsy piece of paper was slightly unnerving, "You're too sweet. But please, just listen before you judge."

Gabriella felt as though her entire body was freezing numb. The words that were being spoken had a looming sense of guilt over them. However, she couldn't help her hands from shaking with excitement. The manila folder was calling to her, begging her to take a peek at the contents. She managed to nod before mumbling, "No editorials until all the facts are taken." Gabriella promised, hinting at a joke through her occupation.

Lucille's lips curled sadly before looked up at Gabriella, her eyes boring with truth. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before commencing, "Judging by your comment when I first walked in here," Gabriella's ivory cheeks flushed crimson in embarrassment, "I take it that you know the knee injury is made up. Troy was in his prime when he walked away."

Gabriella let out a held breath, thankful that her journalistic skills hadn't momentarily gone way side and that indeed, there was a story to his past. She sent him a mental apology for doubting his morals and nodded, "Yes. I do know."

"I love my son, Gabriella," Lucille explained, though it was completely unnecessary due to the interactions she had witness over the past few days in the Bolton household, "But he wasn't anything like the man he is now. He had always had the limelight on him, ever since he was a little kid. Basketball. He lived, breathed and slept basketball. He was good too, and he knew it. By the time he was ten, the entire Junior Wildcats' parents would swarm around me while Jack coached and swoon about how they wished their son was as gifted as Troy. God knows it came with a price." She chuckled softly, as if it were a private joke.

"Jack and I always wanted another child," Gabriella's heart broke at the saddened tone, "but apparently Troy had just been luck. I miscarried multiple times after Troy until I finally couldn't take the tears and blood anymore. So I focused on making my only son happy, my baby. I loved him with everything I could, carting him and Chad around and scolding him when he showed up on my front door with mud trails leading through the kitchen. There were times when I wanted to strangle him, but all he'd have to do was give me that million dollar smile and I couldn't stay mad for long."

Gabriella smiled knowingly, "He does have that gift."

Lucille pushed a chestnut strand locks behind her ear, "I guess the massive amount of attention he got only triggered his cockiness when he hit high school."

She nodded, suddenly remembering the multiple times that she had been exposed to his arrogant behavior – though it was not often, "The boys in my class were just as stupid."

Apparently, Lucille didn't agree. She shook her head fingered the divisions on the folder, "This wasn't your average surge of testosterone. He was out of control. Felt he was too good for homework and curfew. Jack managed to keep him passing every year with mediocre marks. I could kill the man for teaching him he was better than studying," she appeared disgusted with herself by the way her nose scrunched, "I couldn't tell you the number of calls I got from that school saying he was caught shooting free-throw when he should have been in Algebra. When junior year came along, he'd stumble in at two in the morning with alcohol on his breath. I did what I could, but it was impossible to ground him, since without basketball… he probably wouldn't have shown up to school at all."

This didn't sound like the Troy she knew at all – she had seen him with his nose dug in his physiology books too often to imagine someone who didn't care about an education, "Surely he grew out of it."

"Barely," Lucille continued, "The only reason his grades picked up in the middle of junior year was because the UCLA coach had his eye on him. If he didn't maintain a 3.0…"

"…There was no ball game." Gabriella finished.

Shamefully, Lucille motioned her head up and down, "I worried about him constantly when he left. The team seemed to settle him down slightly, I could be certain he wasn't drinking every night since he was out of town half the time. But his interviews on TV were so boastful I was almost embarrassed. I prayed every night that he'd meet someone who would calm him down."

She ran her hands once again down the folder, careful not to fold or bend the edges while watching herself complete the action, "I still remember the day Troy called to tell us. He had been elated, but not from the win he had just brought home for the team," her voice was neutral, neither remorseful nor admiration shined through, "Soon all the phone calls began to revolve around one thing."

Finally, Lucille took a deep breath and fluttered her eyes to a close. Responsively, Gabriella's hear began to pitter patter with anticipation. Sucking her lungs in, she watched with longing as the older woman lifted the stack and finally swung the cover open and carefully remove the flimsy object sitting atop the papers – a rise of the dead.

"I met Emily Lewis during the summer of his sophomore year. Troy had a few weeks to himself before training started once again, so he hibernated to his room with his phone in his ear and only left to hang out with his high school friends. I had had enough and wanted my son back, so I told him to invite her for a few days to stay with us," trembling, she held out the photograph face down and never faltered the intensity of her gaze, "She came a week later."

The lungs in her chest were suddenly punctured. Gabriella opened her mouth to speak, though no coherent words released. After months of searching, after hours of obsessing over this girl who had no face, the truth was finally upon her. Her hand was shaking so violently when she finally clasped the paper, her fingers scorched a raging inferno. With a numbed arm and heart, Gabriella finally pulled the last bit of evidence towards her and took a rib-rattling breath before flipping the picture over with and looked down.

Ironically, though she was looking for the deceased, Gabriella immediately caught sight of the younger version of Troy staring back up at her. His hair, which she was now getting used to between the piles of pictures she had witnessed in his prime, swooped over his electrifyingly beautiful eyes. It must have been one of Los Angeles's' cooler nights, for a Carolina blue jacket was zipped half way to intensify the bronze in his skin. At first appearance, he seemed elated to hold the woman in his arms so closely by the closed-mouth smirk that curved over his cheeks. But Gabriella had seen his true smile too many times to be able to tell that it didn't quite curl at the edges towards his eyes, nor did his nose scrunch the way it did when he was giddy. An imposter, that was. Tainted by a cynical mask.

Then her eyes shifted over, to what she had been waiting for.

She was blonde, though it appeared white instead of golden – hair that fell down in straight shimmers past her shoulders just enough so his fingers to tickle the ends with his arm around her. A smile that beamed white plastered over the heart shape of her face that looked slightly awkward with her wide nose. Crisp, blue eyes pierced through short lashes. Beneath her yellow sweatshirt, Gabriella could tell she was several pounds more than Gabriella herself but by no means would be considered heavy. She was pretty, but ultimately, she was plain as opposed to the luxurious picture Gabriella had painted her as. Although she would rather stick pins in her eyes than admit it, Alicia was much more attractive than his late fiancé.

"Emily." Gabriella repeated, feeling the shivers of her specter ripple down her spine. She was tempted to chuck the picture towards the wall that she had flung Alicia's before, but felt her fingers were now magnetized to the glossy surface.

Lucille peered over her fingers from across the bedspread, careful not to knock the box of memories Gabriella had dug through earlier, "That was sophomore year, I um… I fished it from the trash when he threw the rest out just to keep one." her voice didn't tremble for remorse, it shook with guilt. Like she had saved it in order to sleep more soundly at night, "Troy had a series of home games and I guess she had just gotten done sitting in at the elementary school."

Gabriella cocked a thin eyebrow and glanced up from the picture, "Elementary school?"

Dark hair swinging, Lucille nodded, "She wanted to be a first grade teacher. Apparently she taught Sunday school at her church in high school and fell in love with children."

Unconsciously, Gabriella scrunched her nose in disgust that she was so wholesome. Things would be much easier if she was a prostitute, "Let me guess, she volunteered at a homeless shelter and saved baby ducklings in her free time?" The natural bitterness and jealousy leaked through her tone. This girl was Mother Teresa and she was a cheap imitation of Katie Couric who spilled espresso on her shirt in the shape of Alabama.

"You must have met her," Lucille mumbled sadly, and suddenly altered her demeanor. After a hand ran down her face, she appeared distressed as she looked up at her with shining, black eyes, "She was… a nice girl. She was polite and gracious with a smile. She offered to help out around the house. I never heard her say anything poor about anyone."

As a professional at uncovering the truth and reading people, Gabriella noticed the strain in her voice, "But?"

Lucille leaned forward and tenderly pealed her hand from the clutches of the photograph, "When I see you with my son, Gabriella… you ignite a sparkle in his eyes. Your laughter is contagious. You're as cute as a button and Troy looks at you as though the world is at his feet. I never saw that when he was with her. Maybe when he first spoke of her, but later… he seemed dulled. She was nice, but she was… boring. I was always afraid to tease her because I thought she would take it too personally. Like she took things too literally. Jack could barely hold a conversation with her because she didn't participate in sports. Or know anything about them other than Troy's number was fourteen.

"I think Troy started to feel the same way." she explained, "He didn't talk about her liked he used to. I had to ask him how she was and he'd respond with a one word answer. Honestly, if… if she hadn't…" Lucille chewed on her lower lip, "I think Troy would have broken up with her shortly."

This ignited a fire in Gabriella – her research had proven that he had been engaged to her at the time of her death. Did this mean that Troy had been planning on calling off the wedding? But what about the baby? Her stomach was itching to ask what came of the child, but her gut silenced her. There was an eerie feeling that the fetus should be held in silence for the time being. Call it writer's intuition or Emily's ghost directing her, she listened to the voice and remained mute.

The pause between them, however, was becoming unbearable. Sucking in a hot breath, Gabriella leaned forward with her eyes spilling desire, "Lucille… what happened to her?"

There was a shift in the air of the bedroom, as though the yellow glow of the lights began to cyclone in a dangerous rotation – just before the storm. The blue paint on the walls began to draw inwards, concave to provide a thick humidity between them. Lucille's chest began to puff in heavy breaths to keep from breaking. Gabriella could feel her heart slamming against her rips – so loud it could be heard from the garage Troy was working in.

"It was…" she cleared her throat and looked up at the sky, "It was May 12th that he told us he was headed to Austin to spend the weekend with her parents. I didn't think it was a good idea, the reporters had finally simmered after he announced he would be focusing on his studies next year," her eyes flickered to Gabriella, who nodded in confirmation that she knew of the dismissal, "I didn't think escaping to some other state would be smart, but Troy was insistent on getting there and then coming to Albuquerque the following weekend. His need to see us upset me. After he quit the Bruins, I was on a watchful eye for signs of…" her voice trailed off, tears glossing over her irises but she kept them from falling, "Basketball meant everything to him, and then he just dropped it. I thought was going to commit… I was being melodramatic."

She reached inside the folder again and pulled out a piece of paper that Gabriella was quite familiar with – a newspaper clipping, "It was 12:14 AM when we got the phone call. Both of us were sleeping, we had frozen pizza that night and watched the 24. May 14th."

Handing her the article, Gabriella noticed her tears had finally leaked. Not quite sure whether she should reach over and comfort or stay seated awkwardly, Gabriella settled on looking down at the pressed paper to read the title, "ONE DEAD IN HIGH SPEED CHASE".

Gabriella's stomach dropped: High speed chase.

Lucille swallowed her tears as spoke with a ball lodged in her throat, "They were just on the edge of the California border. It was storming that night," she explained, her voice cracking every few words, "Alfonzo Diaz had robbed the US Bank fourteen miles away. The police were on his tail, so he drew his gun when… he turned the corner… and…"

"He missed." Gabriella whispered, another chill inclosing her skin.

"His car smashed into the passenger's side of theirs, causing it to flip seven times. The only reason it stopped was because it ran into a light pole, which toppled over to crush the car…. I –I've never been so thankful for Troy bending the rules before," Lucille laughed dryly, though it sounded more like a cat hacking up a hairball, "when Diaz hit them, Troy flew through the already shattered windshield and landed on the grass hugging the road since there was no seatbelt to restrain him. His arm was broken in seven places. Had he… had he been inside the car…"

Gabriella felt her own eyes grow hot, thinking if he had buckled in. Her stomach twisted and bile began to bubble through her esophagus. Unable to handle it any longer, she threw the article to the pile of Emily's file and hugged her knees tightly to her chest, to keep from splitting in half.

It suddenly made perfect sense. Troy refused to go to any of Alicia's trials because they reminded him too much of his own. Nightmares that would have come rushing back.

"The glass from the windshield severed her trachea, making it impossible for her crushed lungs to take in oxygen. They found traces slicing her pulmonary artery and embedded into her right atrium. She was dead less than fifteen minutes after the crash." Lucille's voice sounded like death had leeched onto it, drawing out the tragedy. Again, the look of guilt smeared over her face as she finally caved to the sobs that were rushing through her, "When we were driving… to the hospital… I-I-I pr…prayed it was her… oh my god…"

Gabriella, with watering streaming down her face, understood.

She had asked God to take Emily instead of Troy.

And he listened.

Unable to watch such a strong woman any longer, Gabriella leapt over the jumbles of papers and threw her arms around the mother in comfort. Immediately, Lucille dug her face into the curve of Gabriella's neck and let years of suppressed pain erupt. Soothingly, Gabriella rubbed her hand over the surface of her back and attempted to shush her, "He was your son. Anyone would have wished for the same thing."

"I should… I deserve to go to… I didn't mean…" She blubbered before looking Gabriella straight in the eye, "I'm a terrible person. I wanted her… not him… god not him…"

Gabriella suddenly believed that this was the defining moment that she had finally retrieved Troy Bolton's entire story. While looking at the sobbing mother, she had believed that the pieces of the puzzle were finally placed together in the dark shadows of his past. The death of Emily was tragic, but she had finally uncovered the truth of why he had changed his arrogant ways and traveled to New York City. Heartbreak had been the culprit. Because the love of his life had slipped through his fingers with the bang of a gun, he had been emotionally scarred and couldn't handle the city of Los Angeles any longer. This led to his promiscuous ways to suppress the pain with Alicia, the abandonment of his life started and ended on May 14th.

But instead of celebrating in victory, Gabriella pulled Lucille close with the single promise, "No, you were just being a good mother."

* * *

Gabriella didn't know how she would feel when she stepped into that garage late Sunday evening.

Despite the clammy air that swirled around her as she stepped onto the cement, Gabriella felt a shiver rippled down her spine and spread over her body until it curled over each toe. Unconsciously, she wrapped a sweater tightly around her tiny body with her arms folded. It was difficult to see, for a small, rusty pick-up sat in the middle of the garage in company with the tools and basketball posters that decorated the walls. Easy music crackled through the radio accompanied by the harmony of his voice singing along to the lyrics. She could hear the occasion grunt or clang of metal from beneath the vehicle as she dragged her feet further inside, prolonging the inevitable confrontation that was about to occur.

She was afraid when she looked at him, pity would forever etch itself to the edges of her gaze. It seemed impossible not to treat him any differently than she had a few hours ago, though she would have liked to. After Lucille had finally calmed down from her episode, she had left Gabriella alone to collect her thoughts and wrapped her head around the concept. Gabriella took the next hour to complete her research with the dozens of paper and documents that were all that was left of Emily Lewis.

Born in May, she also died in May. She had had a brother named Tony and a schnauzer named Scooter when she was twelve. Her parents had been married in a tiny church in Amarillo. Despite her southern roots, she grew up in Denver where she attended public school. From what Lucille had told her, it sounded like she was outgoing and had a lot of friends, but her morals were intact. She didn't sound like she would have been the type to get trashed every weekend – a straight to the book type of girl. Her teachers had left comments in emails of how they adored her, and clearly the females on campus envied her since she had the hot-shot around her finger. It appeared she was perfect, no wonder Troy was so broken up and secretive about his past. He didn't want to relive the heartbreak.

She took a deep breath to settle her nerves once she approached the popped hood of the trunk. His sneakers were dangling from beneath the vehicle. Not wanting to startle him into banging his head, Gabriella dropped to her already dirtied knees and called, "Finished yet, Mr. Goodwrench?"

Within the past few hours, Gabriella had finally uncovered his secret and anticipated she would feel a different sense of emotion around him. However, when Troy slid out from the truck on the creeper he was lying on, Gabriella felt the exact same surge of attraction when his sparkling blue eyes met hers. The ground still moved like molten lava beneath her, he still shook her world.

For a moment of vulnerability, Troy blinked up at her with his face smeared with the same black oil that dotted his white v-neck. In her attraction, Gabriella felt a shiver ripple down her spine at the way his muscles bulged when he gripped the wrench in his hand.

He was still the same Troy, scarred by the car crash or not.

"I couldn't find the fucking drain pan." Troy growled when he pulled out the yellow bucket that sloshed thick oil. Gabriella's knowledge on cars extended from placing the key into the ignition and unscrewing the gas tank when she needed to fill up. But it was fairly obvious that he was changing the oil.

Gabriella giggled, "Clearly the oil found you." She reached over and wiped the side of his cheek, just beneath the scar that ran from his hairline, to attempt to clean the skin.

Her touch must have awoke a part of him. His eyes flashed up, blue and hot, to meet her burn. Nothing was said, but it was clear their minds were both on Gabriella's revelation.

She sighed and looked down at her retrieved hand as though the ghost of his skin was still etched to her fingerprints, "I didn't mean to bug you… I just wanted to make sure if you were alive or if you choked on toxic fumes."

Troy chuckled, the legitimate smile breeched over his face without hesitation, "Nah, it's cool. You can stay if you want, I sorta like your company." He joked, clearly becoming unaffected with the mystery of what she knew.

"Really? Cuz I think you smell." Gabriella felt a dull pain when he shoved his foot out to kick her shin, not harmful, "Abuse! I'm going straight to Lucille so she can ground you!"

"Pshhh, she wishes." Troy snorted before lowering himself onto the creeper once again. Gabriella felt a flip of her stomach, remembering his past ways of escaping punishment if he misbehaved in high school. She quickly shook her head to rid the thought, remembering that this Troy had grown up since, "'If you're gonna stand there, you might as well be useful. Can you hand me an 8 millimeter and the new filter?"

Gabriella's mouth was agape with blankness, "A what and a what?"

Rolling his eyes, Troy pointed towards the tool bench, "The shiny silver thing with a square on the end and the cylinder thing that looks like origami."

She cranked her head and located both, "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" Gabriella asked while skipping towards the directed area in her sneakers.

"Stick to writing Montez," he instructed when she handed both to him and he quickly slipped back beneath the monster of the truck. Gabriella did her utmost best to keep from pulling his feet again and staring into the depths of his eyes, just to thank a higher power that it had saved him from the clutches of death. There was so much she wanted to ask him, so many inquisitions that weren't directed towards _discovering _his past, but instead understanding how he felt at the time. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was for his loss and if she could, she would do everything in her power to keep him happy, "My parents back yet?" He called from beneath the vehicle between groans and grunts of strain.

"Yeah," Gabriella swallowed, her tone two octaves too high, "I uh… I had a long talk with your mom."

"Huh…" Troy mused, muffled by metal, "She give you the sex talk? Cuz that's just all sorts of awkward."

It was painfully obvious he was attempting to be nonchalant about what had just occurred. Gabriella was thankful – things weren't uncomfortable as she had hypothesized they would be. She should have known better though, nothing had ever been awkward between the two, "Yep. She convinced me to abstain til marriage."

The yellow bucket slid from the car once again, this time containing an older, crushed version of the cylinder filter he requested Gabriella to replace. Not long after, Troy himself rolled out – even more drenched in oil than he had been previously. She crossed her legs and attempted to ignore the sudden arousal that roared within due to the attractiveness of Troy as a mechanic.

"That sucks. Guess I'll just have to leave you here to play nun tomorrow." he wiggled his mahogany eyebrows after wiping his hands off on a grimy rag. He reached inside the hood and removed a stick, examining the tip carefully before replacing it, "Can you handle finding me the funnel? I looks like a …"

"I know what a fucking funnel is, thank you." She hissed and tossed it to him.

After pouring the new oil into its selective hole, he started the engine – though it sounded more like a hacking smoker than an actual car. Gabriella watched with bemusement as he grinned like a five year-old, proud of his accomplishments after being captive in the city for so long. She gave him a thumbs up, though she wouldn't have been able to tell if he completely screwed up the job or had been successful.

Troy held her gaze for a long time, which Gabriella felt stretch through the liquid in her veins and coil around each of her curls. Suddenly, she realized that the story she had just been told made no difference to the way she felt about him before. Still, his eyes were the same shade of cyan and his skin still burst with sunlight. He still was sarcastic with her, yet touched her with care and stared at her as though she owned the ground beneath his feet. Her knowledge of Emily did not affect the way her heart pitter pattered when his smile curled up to a smirk or the way he reached his hand out in coaxing. He wasn't holding back himself, he hadn't buried his heart in the casket – where ever it may lie. If anything, her feelings for him intensified from where they were before.

She realized, in the moment that Troy whispered, "come here," that nothing was more important than Troy Bolton. Not his past, not the Los Angeles Times, not the daunting future.

All she cared about was the sparks that exploded in her eyes when their lips brushed and whether or not her clothes would smell like oil for the next week.


	30. Minute Thirty

"_Alicia… hey, it's me. Just…can you call me when you get this? I've been back from Albuquerque for three days now and I haven't heard from you. I don't know if your cell's dead or whatever but yeah… just call me. Or swing by practice tomorrow… The Hammer misses you and I think I'll get pummeled if you don't show up soon. Call me."

* * *

_

Alicia Moretti had only _really _been mad twice in her life.

Yes, she occasionally got irritated, annoyed, and hurt that were ultimately mistaken for rage. Because she had a hardheaded attitude towards life, it was fairly easy to assume that her bitchiness derived from anger. But, just as anyone should remember that nothing was ever as it seemed, she hadn't fumed when she walked into Troy's apartment just before he and his new journalist girlfriend where about to do it. It wasn't even when she discovered that he had begun dating said girl. These emotions were created by the painful stab of her heart, knowing that he would never be hers.

The first time had been long before she moved to New York, even before she stepped foot on the campus of the University of Los Angeles. As a sophomore, Alicia was shunned from the popular females of the class – mainly because they were jealous over the way she could hold a substantial conversation with their precious jock crushes. The high schoolers, being upmost cruel, whispered lies behind their curled hands and picked fun at her intelligence. Though she murdered many stuffed animals as she chucked them viciously at the walls, never once did she shed a tear over the mockery. The bullying was part of the reason her skin was so thick. It was also the reason she connected better to human organisms with testosterone rather than those who buffed their nails on Friday night between romantic comedies.

Although one may believe that her courtship with the captain of the soccer team, Mark Sanchez, would ultimately cause those that hated to shimmer, quite the opposite occurred. The girls became vicious, releasing the full power of their push up bras and attempted to seduce him back to the side of plastic. Surprisingly, he didn't cave to the offered blow jobs nor did he bow to the temptations of a one night stand. He was loyal to Alicia - until his senior year when the appeal of gambling with his friends became a dangerous obsession. Quickly, he began to cheat on her with ace cards and marijuana wrapped tightly into a stick to smoke. Alicia gave him the ultimatum that she would either have him sober, or not at all. Believing her threat was empty; Mark continued to overstimulate his senses and began to steal her paycheck from the sporting goods store she was employed at. True to her word, she severed the ties and walked away.

Before he became consumed, however, junior year had been quite blissful. As the end drew near, she became excited over the one chance to act as a real female and doll herself for junior prom. Her sisters, both older and much more experienced, skipped at her side as she shopped for dresses that would shimmer as she danced or that hugged her muscle toned body. Though the thought was appreciated, Alicia decided to drag her guy friends along with her instead so she would receive an opinion that she could relate too. They twirled their basket and footballs around their fingers while Alicia twirled in her gowns, until they finally all agreed on a slim fitting dress that amplified the beauty of her body and would most definitely "make Mark cum on the spot", as the football captain stated so boldly with a bump in his pants.

The night every girl dreamed about quickly arrived, and Alicia blushed when she was ushered to the dance floor with Mark's mouth agape and a gaze of desire dripping over his face. However, her fairytale quickly mutated into a nightmare when the jealously brewed behind the eyes of the females in her junior class. While she had been giggling gleefully at one of the jokes Mark's best friend cracked, the prom queen strategically snipped the hem of her jade gown that pooled upon the floor and tucked the fabric under a thick, wooden chair. After resting in the blackness, Alicia rose to a stance – the resistance caused the incision to tear apart the seams and left her the rags of her silk and her panties. To make matters worse, the girls just so happened to shine a spotlight upon the future lawyer for all to see her nude chest and lacy thong. Instead of fleeing in embarrassment, Alicia marched to the prom queen and punched her square in the jaw in the rage that pumped through her veins. She and Mark were escorted from the dance in a police car while Alicia threatened to pummel their pampered bodies into jail in revenge.

And the second time Alicia felt pure hatred and poison her blood like fire was when she received the photographs from the Douglas trial with, low and behold, her best friend seated in the benches, just as he promised he'd never do.

* * *

"_Seriously Alicia? Your phone can't be dead for five days. What the hell did I do this time? I just want to see you… really, is that too much to ask? I'm sorry for whatever I did or whatever but I need to know if you've been mugged or not. It's fucking rude. So… I'll buy you coffee or something to make up for whatever the hell I did. Just call me goddammit."

* * *

_

For one of the few times in life, the furthest thing on Troy's mind was basketball.

The whistle blew, echoing violently between the walls of the gymnasium as the ten players upon the court froze in mid play. Their arms were up, prepared to either block the pursuers or call to receive the closest pass. Sweat rained down the sides of their petrified faces. The air was thick as it beamed down from the yellow lights that heightened the senses upon the court. The light color of the hardwood intensified to blind and the stank of perspiration stalked the nostrils that puffed to gain some sort of oxygen. There was a sense that another presence lingered between the laces of the net or the fiberglass of the backboard.

Without mercy, Troy, dressed in a black long-sleeve and matching red shorts, strutted on the court with fire reflecting in the sharp edges of his eyes, "You guys call that defense?" He snapped, the already short fuse that strung from his normally calm demeanor began to sizzle. When no one responded, Troy threw his clipboard to the ground with a thunderous clatter.

"Ball!" Troy thundered while throwing his hands out to receive a pass. The boys looked between each other, too nervous to move or let alone breathe. This infuriated him even more, so he turned to The Hammer and snarled, "I SAID BALL!"

As though someone had ordered them on their death march, the team frantically tossed the orange sphere over to their infuriated coach. The clunk of the rubber connecting with his fingertips pulsated and lingered in the air long after the event happened. His lips, curled in an animalistic way, twitched as he began to step further on the hardwood. Approaching the black haired player, Troy watched as his head shot up and his dark eyes widened in fright. Leo stared up at Troy, though didn't make a sound when Troy pushed the ball down in a dribble. Immediately, Leo dropped into a fighter stance and widened his arms to guard as Troy felt the familiar adrenaline pump through his veins. For a brief moment, he was stripped back to a time when he was dressed in bright blue and vibrant yellow, in front of the spectators cheering his name wildly.

"Get lower!" Troy ordered as he faked left and whirled around towards the right, charging towards the free basket. Leo, however, refused to give up. He sprinted at an angle just in time to deflect Troy's shot and sent the ball flying in the opposite direction. Once he returned to earth on the balls of his feet, Troy raised an eyebrow to see Leo puffing, but slightly smug. Mentally, Troy thanked him for actually giving a damn.

"I want to see that kind of effort from all of you tomorrow!" Troy boomed, spinning around to see his team in awe at their friend's accomplishment. Unphazed, Troy walked back to where he chucked the clipboard and swooped it into his arms, "Bring you're A game, or we're gonna run suicides for an hour."

His departure from the court once again was the cue that they were allowed to leave. The high schoolers paused, not quite sure if they should indeed leave the gymnasium or if they should stay to please him. Troy felt his skin burn from the lights above as he slowly approached the bench, not daring to look at his assistant. Finally, after what felt like hours, Leo coughed and ran his hands through his dampened hair, "Alright, everyone in. WHO ARE WE?"

"Bolton, you alright?" The assistant asked when Troy finally made it and closed his eyes painfully, attempting to rid the plaguing thoughts that had been occurring within the past few days that he returned from Albuquerque.

Quite honestly, the answer was no. He was not okay.

After spending the incredible weekend with his family and his girlfriend, Troy honestly thought he couldn't have been happier. The ride back to New York was filled with snuggles and sweet kisses. They returned home safely and fell asleep in each other's arms, then hurried off the next day to once again be introduced to reality. Between his last class and running to work, he called Alicia only to be greeted with the voicemail. The day after, he called again and still hadn't talked to her. It was very unlike Alicia to ignore him, so he became concerned that something serious had happened to her. The more likely scenario, however, was that she was completely ignoring him – which infuriated him.

"Fine. Just stressed." Troy grunted somewhat truthfully as he sat down upon the bleacher and ran a hand through his thick hair.

"You look exhausted." He commented, though Troy scowled at the thought of appearing weak. He peered upwards with daggers in the pierce of his irises. The coach actually took a step backwards in fright.

Troy reached into his red gym bag – the one that carried him to a state championship in high school – and retrieved the water bottle that sloshed as he whipped it out, "I took a vacation last weekend. I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Ignoring the tiny voice clawing at this back of his brain to remind him he very well could have been dead that May night, Troy focused on the task of breathing when his co instructor, who was several years older than he and with much more experience, patted his shoulder, "Just take it easy alright? Tomorrow we'll go over Jordan and the guys will have it down before seven, don't worry about it." He referenced one of the plays that were labeled after famous players and teams.

"Have a good night, man." Troy waved while the other coach dug his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and walked towards the door, leaving Troy in an eerie and haunting silence.

As soon as the door clicked to a shut, Troy furiously searched for his communication device in the depths of his shorts and through his bag. Annoyed and frantic, it wasn't until he curled his hand into the very bottom of the bag that his fingers finally closed around his cell phone. With a sigh of relief, Troy tapped the screen with a furrowed brow, only to feel his heart sink in disappointment. His stomach, which felt as though it could upturn the contents, coiled with both rage and pain. Angrily, he threw the phone back into the bag and grabbed chunks of his hair on either side of his head.

"Don't do this to me." Troy whispered desperately – only to let the words fade away like the ghost of his past.

* * *

"_Are you fucking kidding me? I called Jenny…. She says you're at your fucking apartment right now. Would you just take the goddamn stick out of your ass and pick up the phone? Honestly Alicia, if this is about me taking Gabriella to Albuquerque you need to just grow up cuz it's about fucking time she knows what the hell happened. Jesus, at least tell me what I did! But I guess I'm not worth that huh? Whatever Alicia, fuck you."

* * *

_

"Gabriella… you have to tell him."

Gabriella sighed impatiently while seated in the passenger side of the navy car, flitting around to be certain that the silver recorder was placed snuggly into her lap to keep it safe from the cold air that slapped against the side of the vehicle. Looking outside gravely, she suddenly wished desperately that it was five days previously and she was still in the warming sun of New Mexico – sitting on the porch with just a sweatshirt on and waiting for Lucille to announce what was for dinner. But instead, she was shivering into her peacoat while the sun began to set over the tops of the buildings, causing an iridescent halo to glow between the skyscrapers.

"Jase, I can't tell him." She stated boldly as she turned her head, her eyes catching the light of the sunset to glitter a topaz glaze.

Jason closed his eyes, which was potentially problematic due to the fact that both his hands were on the wheel and he was in the middle of New York City, "This is a decision you need to make _with _him. Not behind his back." His voice was soft, gentle with a sweet caress .

Gabriella swallowed and looked down into her hands. Her fingers were shaking, but she wasn't quite sure if it was due to the cold or the conversation that was transpiring, "If I tell him Jason, he'll make me go. I don't want to go."

"He's just looking for what's best for you, for your career." the light they were stopped at flickered to green, and it was surprisingly silent for the heart of downtown. Instead of receiving an angry honk from one of the impatient commuters behind, the cars eased slowly into the intersection, almost tauntingly as they made their way, "You need to be certain that you're doing what's best for you and the opportunities, not just because you're in love with the guy."

She let out a weak laugh, "You just said a word that was more than two syllables. I'm impressed."

Jason sent her a wicked smirk, "I have my moments."

"It's not just about Troy, Jase," she attempted to repeat the exact same argument they had been having ever since Jeremy showed up at The Tribute door, "I just moved here, I have friends here, I'm settled. Yes, Troy is a big part of why I can't go, but I need to stay right where I am. I wouldn't be happy if I wasn't with you guys."

"You still need to…"

Gabriella shook her cascading curls, knowing exactly what he would say, "I don't need to tell him. He's got enough going on with Alicia that I don't need to stress him out anymore."

Jason's eyebrows scrunched, although it was difficult to tell since his shag hung dangerously over his lashes, "There's bitchy best friend drama?" when Gabriella didn't react to his joke, he let out a breath and softened his voice, "What's going on, honey?" Gabriella turned away almost shyly, as though she didn't have the strength to feel smolder of his coal eyes upon her. Fingers running over the icy surface of the window, she took in the sight of the city goers bustling along the sidewalk in order to reach their apartment and homes for the evening. The lives that seemed so simplistic compared to hers.

"Um…" she hesitated, looking down into her lap again, "he hasn't heard from her."

"And that's a bad thing?" The skeptics in Jason's tone were apparent.

Gabriella nodded, her black curls coiling around her face to hide the truth, "He hasn't heard from her since she showed up at the coffee house the day we left. At first, he thought she had just gotten pissed at something and was blowing some steam. But it's been a week now, and she won't call him back. He called one of her roommates, and she said that she was in." Her eyes, glossy and fearful, lifted to finally meet his.

Jason chewed on the words for a moment while the sound of the blinker signal clicked in the distance. The radio was muted, enough to hear the sound of her heartbeat railing against her chest, "So," he finally mused, "She's just ignoring him? What a brat."

"Yep." Gabriella's lips popped at the end of the word.

"So how do you feel about that?"

Gabriella, finally turning to him, tilted her head with curiosity, "What do you mean?"

Jason shrugged, his brown jacket fell awkwardly on his shoulder as he lowered it once again, "It can't be easy watching your boyfriend obsessively call another girl…. Especially one he fucked in the past." The silence was a confirmation that she agreed, "So how do you feel about it?"

For a long moment, Gabriella pondered this. Her mind reeled back to all the situations that Alicia had brushed his arm or when he had placed his hand on her lower back to guide her somewhere. The familiar, green-eyed monster that normally brewed when these incidents arose was dormant. The uncomfortable squirm of her stomach made no motion to wiggle. The only emotion that rushed through her veins was pity – the last thing she ever wanted was to see Troy in so much pain. Obviously, she wished it were different circumstance that he was aching, but as someone who truly cared about him, she felt nothing but empathy. She couldn't be angry at him for being concerned or consumed. If Jason had been the one to ignore her contact, she was certain she would have been just as desperate to reach him.

"I want him to be happy. Albuquerque was incredible… and I don't want to lose that side of him. I just wish Alicia would stop being a fucking bitch and respond… because it's tearing him apart." Gabriella's pace became faster and more aggressive as she spoke. The words felt like tar in her mouth – it was the true first time she had spoken so cruelly about her. But the lawyer was ripping Troy apart at the seams, she deserved it.

"I don't think I've ever heard you rip about her like this." Jason commented, which Gabriella ground her teeth in response.

"She's hurting him. I don't care what her reasoning is, she needs to fucking get over herself. She knows how much it pained him to lose Emily, why would she want to put him through separation again? Whatever Troy did or didn't do, it's not worth this. Sh-" She began to say, but cut herself off to keep from completely succumbing to her animalistic nature. It didn't go unnoticed by Jason, who carefully placed a hand onto her arm.

"What?" Jason egged her, though there was a hesitation in his eyes.

Gabriella looked up at him, her eyes black with hatred, "She's not worth it."

* * *

"_After everything that's fucking happened… this is what it comes down to? You won't fucking call me back? I'm so happy our friendship is more important than your pride. Really mature, Moretti. If this is what you want, fine. I hope you have a nice life. So much for always being there for each other. Thanks for being a shitty friend."

* * *

_

Gabriella Montez officially hated Alicia Moretti.

Despite their rival occupations and possession over the ex basketball star, Gabriella had never felt such a powerful hatred towards her like she did now. She hated the way the ghost of her dark hair lingered when Troy gripped his. There was nothing that sickened her more than the way Troy would quickly hide the phone he clutched in desperation to attempt to hide his pain when she entered the room. If only things could have gone back to normal, she wouldn't have to worry about the way his nude muscles tensed as he slept – no matter how many times Gabriella kissed them without his knowledge. Still, she wasn't jealous at the amount of attention Troy forced into maintaining contact again. Instead, she just wanted Alicia to return from the grave so Troy would return to the carefree version of Troy once again. It was as though he was putting himself through withdrawals, like she was the last bit of his old life and losing her meant losing what he was.

She hated what Alicia was doing to him.

"I could have told him years ago she'd turn out to be a psycho bitch." Sharpay chimed cheerily while sipping on her margarita. Gleefully, she twirled a strand of her straight hair around her finger.

"Enough Sharpay." Taylor hushed, glancing sideways to meet Chad's wary expression as he was seated at the table beside her.

It was no secret that the gang had decided to attend The Warrior's game that evening because their friend had been in distress. Gabriella had been slightly surprised when the Danforth-McKessie combo arrived with Zeke and Sharpay quick on their heels as the teenage crowd had roared their now familiar battle cries. Smiling politely, Gabriella softly clapped as Troy's team once again dominated the hardwood. If one had been naïve to his current predicament, he would have appeared to be on his A game. But with each yell and urge for direction, cobwebby lines in the corners of his eyes provided enough evidence that he hadn't quite forgotten.

"I'm worried about him." Taylor said lowly, peering towards where he and Zeke were standing to see the score of the North Carolina verses Notre Dame basketball game. He had a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes – the same expression that had casted over his face all evening.

"I'm worried about you." Chad softly looked toward her, making Gabriella raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"Me?" She asked with a hand placed onto the bare skin of her chest that wasn't covered by the ruby long sleeve, "Why the hell are you worried about me?"

"Because she's fucking controlling his mood. I'm friends with the girl, but there's a line and she's fucking pull vaulted over it. It's not right, not to you." Chad shook his ringlets when he took a long drink of his beer.

Gabriella did her best not to agree with him, "He's trying not to let it affect us. He's doing his best to still be himself around me. But I can feel it."

"Or maybe the problem is you _can't _feel it." Sharpay smirked wickedly, enjoying herself far too much given the grave situation.

"Sharpay Evans, would you grow a heart already?" Taylor scolded, her chocolate face cast over in an evil shadow. Instead of joining in, Gabriella bit her lip and refused to admit their sex life was lacking since they returned from their mini-vacation. However, she was much more concerned about other things rather than how Troy looked without his boxers on.

"You can't lie to him Gabs, he can't stand liars." Chad pressed darkly and with too much emotion to be innocent.

Gabriella's stomach suddenly dropped with guilt. She turned away, unable to hold eye contact while she had her secret buried deep inside her. Jason's urgency for her to tell Troy of the opportunity she had yet to respond to echoed around her head. Crossing her arms over her chest to be certain that her lie wouldn't bubble out into a confession, Gabriella leaned forward and ignored her conscience ordering her to be responsible and include him in her decision. Mentally, she punched the angel on her shoulder and felt another presence plop down into the seat beside her. There was no question of who it was by the way the air shifted and gravitated between the two.

"Hey, you alright?" The feel of his tender voice blowing hot air against her ear was overwhelming. Troy's fingers spread across the bumpy surface of her spine. With ruby shadows that glowed from the covered chandler, Troy's face seemed all too smooth when he leaned towards her, concern dancing in his ceruleans as if he wasn't pained himself.

Gabriella swallowed and nodded, more fibs spilling from her throat before she could stop them, "It must be the salmon."

"Do you need to go home?" He asked kindly, flickering his eyes over her face as though it would be the key to her wellbeing.

Before he could fully check, Gabriella raised her sculpted eyebrows, "Do you?"

The intensity between them exploded and pulsated in a beat that felt overwhelming. The words echoed around the air they breathed, making the oxygen thick with tension. For a brief moment, his face faltered to a frown – as though he had failed in his task of remaining neutral in front of her. But quickly, Troy shook his head and sent her a feigned smile. He leaned forward and pressed an electric kiss to her lips, though refused to linger long enough to be overly suggestive. Slowly, his thumb caressed over her cheek in a way that made Gabriella beg for this storm to pass, so they could finally live in peace.

"No, I'm here with you, that's all that matters." He promised before turning back to his friends.

Little did she know, the first bolt of lightning was about to strike.

* * *

"_Alicia… please… I hate this. Call me."

* * *

_

**A/N: I cannot express how incredibly thankful I am for these past two chapters and the response I've received. It's comforting to know that the fandom hasn't quite disappeared yet, so thank you so much. I'm so grateful. I hope you guys liked this chapter – it's not really super exciting but it's supposed to set the tone for the next coming chapters. As always, thank you so much for reading. **


	31. Minute Thirty One

**A/N: I had kind of hoped to avoid this author's note, but in the past sixteen or so hours I've had several PMs, so I guess it can't really go under the rug like I thought. I've failed as an author – I promised myself I'd never delete a story unfinished and I did. For those of you reading Love Changes Everything, I hope you understand my reasoning for taking it off my profile this morning. I love the story, but Time Changes Everything means so much more to me and it didn't feel the same – the vibe was completely off and I couldn't keep pretending that I could keep it up. Those reading can hate me, I deserve it, but keeping the characters I love so dearly close to my heart and untouched means more to me. Please, I deserve to get rocks thrown at me, I'm a terrible author. But Time Changes Everything means too much for me to taint. If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I'd rather keep THIS story strictly Fourteen instead of getting inquisitions as reviews.**

**With that being said, I hope you guys like this chapter more than the last one. It's – interesting, to say the least. Keep letting me know how you feel about the direction I'm taking the story. I love hearing your theories. Thanks so much for reading and your support, you guys are incredible readers and I can't thank you enough.

* * *

**

It was the fourteenth.

The rest of the details about that day were meaningless, but Troy would always remember it was the fourteenth. The minutes it took for him to walk purposefully with his head down and his hands dug deeply into the depths of his pockets were meaningless. January, July, or August: the month was unknown. It mattered not if it was a Tuesday or a Thursday – someone could have made up a new weekday and he wouldn't have noticed. The year? Sometime in the twenty first century, that was all he cared about. The hours he would later spend at the physical therapy facility were lost between the screams and the tears. However, until he would lie in his grave six feet below the ground, Troy would forever recall the fateful date that his world crashed down upon his feet: the fourteenth.

It was bitterly cold as Troy hurried along the sidewalk, careful not to step on the cracks to keep from creating bad luck. The wool of his collar rubbed against the smoothed part of his cheek that had already been tainted with a rosy blush. Invisible, the pedestrians pushed passed him in the opposite direction, a salmon traveling upstream. With a bowed head, he forced himself against the bitter wind and the black sky that made the morning night.

His journey only winded more intricately with the necessity of dodging the speeding vehicles and cars. Against the frozen tundra of the sidewalk, his feet felt heavy; each step cracked the cement by the weight of his past. Once the all too familiar building was within sight, Troy blew out a puff of smoke and felt the blood in his veins run thick. His eyes, so bright and enraged, were crystallized to a sharp ice. They narrowed as he skipped two steps up the entrance, his fingers burned as they curled around the handle of the door, thick with metal and foreboding.

The climb up the stairwell echoed with a haunted clang of his dress shoes against the floor. The wind would have created a dizzying sensation, but his sights were set on the certain level and he would not be distracted. With the quick soles of a basketball player, Troy made it to the appropriate level and already felt the snarl ripple through his throat.

His fury had reached its tipping point early that morning. Days of waiting upon the edge had consumed him – enough that his behavior sickened himself. Had Alicia not been such a solid foundation to him in darker times, the lack of contact wouldn't have bothered him. But it was painfully obvious that she was flat out being rude and ignoring his attempts to make amends. In fact, he wasn't quite sure of his reasoning for swiftly flying down the dimmed hallway because he really wanted to heal whatever strain was in their relationship or if he just wanted to find out what made her so furious.

Gabriella had noticed the change in him when she stirred from her slumber that morning. Blinking with sleep still crusted in her eyes, she questioned why he his hair was dripping with shower water and why his cologne filled her nostrils so early in the morning. Tenderly, he leaned down and ran his thumb over the gentle surface of her olive skin. She leaned into his touch, making Troy aware of why he was continuing with the task he had finally decided on the previous night. Instead of answering, however, he had moved his lips against hers in a desperation that felt foreign before whisking out the door into the busy streets.

When the door entered his line of vision, Troy felt the monster inside bar its teeth. He wasted no time to approach it, feeling the energy of his rage thunder when he knocked angrily against he wood. In the fight or flight situation, his heart rammed against his ribcage in a fury. Logical thought was lost, and Troy was suddenly out for blood when the door swung open and the blonde stood stupidly with her eyes widened in greeting.

"Troy." Jenny breathed; his name was a curse. She wasn't angry, as he might have expected. Instead, she frantically tossed her short hair, which was unusually down, over her shoulder. Dressed in her plaid sweats and a tank top, it was obvious she had just risen from bed.

"Jenny, move." Troy ordered, something he had never done to the petite girl. The intensity of his voice must have frightened her, for she immediately cowered with a jump.

She gripped the doorknob with much more force than he figured she intended, but not of the rage he was feeling. It was pure petrifaction, the way her face had bleached was a clear indication of this, "Troy… she's not…"

"Don't give me some crap-ass story. Move." He barked; the sound of his voice could be heard from two floors below.

She cringed again, but this time didn't falter her gaze from his body. Troy noted the way she subtly calculated the odds of hiding a weapon within the bulks of his black jacket or khaki pants. Of course, he would never carry a gun on the streets, let alone to work after this confutation. Yes, it was odd to show up on the front doorstep so early, but catching her off guard would only play to his favor – or so he thought. The quicker this was completed, the quicker his life could ease back to normal and he could return to Gabriella unscathed.

If only he knew.

Jenny swallowed, shooting a glance over her shoulder once again in wary, "Troy, please. It's not a good idea."

This infuriated him further – he was tired of his life belonging in others' hand, "I don't give a flying fuck. Move."

This time, Troy waited not for Jenny to sidestep out of his way. Careful not to unleash his rage upon her, he carefully nudged her out of the way. It wasn't hard – she couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds and she barely reached his shoulder. If he had been rational, he would have felt remorse for being so cruel – but rationality had quickly imploded by the fourth unanswered phone call.

An earthquake stomped against the carpet as he crossed the family room. The tension in his heart clenched as he approached, fixed in rage. His eyes were razors, cutting away the edges of the closed door with their penetration. Around him, the world slowed – within him, his organs were over stimulated and in a rapid river and pump. It took a long, fourteen seconds for him to stand in front of her bedroom with his lungs in overdrive and his nose twitching. Not even hesitating to absorb the moment to channel his thoughts, Troy ripped the door open with a ravenous boom.

His fists curled when she turned around at the interruption, or maybe it was because her eyes immediately flashed a jade hatred when they landed upon him. In the days of their separation, Alicia hadn't changed. Her hair was just as long and still rolled in shimmers down her back after clearly just been blow dried. She was still just as muscular, which was evident by the way she was shirtless and an orange sports bra held her tiny chest into place. Her pale skin was mystifyingly beautiful through the filter of clouds that shimmied in bars over her bare arms. The heat that bounced over the bed that separated them scorched, making it difficult to breathe.

Finally, he had her.

After the second of silence that they spent glaring ruthlessly at each other in a reunion for the first time since he had returned from Albuquerque, Alicia plastered a sickening smile that was an attempt of mockery upon her face before she turned away – literally sending him a cold shoulder, "Whatever happened to knocking? I was sort of changing." Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she bent over, flaunting the knobs in her back.

"What happened to an open door policy?" Troy trembled as he spoke his first words.

Surprised by the intensity and power that shook with him, Alicia tossed her head backwards with a momentary fright. It quickly disappeared though, as she stretched once again to receive whatever she was searching for. Her backside swayed in an uneven wag, as though she was mocking him with her actions. The room smelt the same light perfume as it always had, along with the lights that reflected the turquoise and periwinkle that covered her bed. However, the air was much more course than usual – thick with their dysfunction.

"I didn't think that applied anymore. Your rules change so many times it's hard to keep track." Alicia snapped, the sound cut like glass, "I'm going to be late… you know where the door is."

Troy made no motion towards it, "That's too damn bad. I'm not going anywhere."

She flashed her eyes towards him once again before marching towards the center of the room with an ebony material in her hand. Before Troy realized what was happening, Alicia so plainly ripped off the sport's bar and dropped it to the floor. She lifted her head to see his reaction – her breasts were not perked as they had been in the countless times they had touched each other sexually. Immediately, Troy felt filthy for looking at her so exposed again and turned away. Obviously, he had failed whatever test the strip had been when she clawed to hook her bra around her back, "Some of us have jobs and can't be bothered right now."

"Maybe if you would answer my fucking phone calls," Troy's face, shadowed with anger, lowered, "I wouldn't have to come at obnoxious times."

"Awe, is Troysie sad that for once he's not getting all the fucking attention?" Her baby voice was mocking and cynical, "Maybe he needs to grow up and learn the world doesn't revolve around him."

"You wanna stop being a fucking bitch and just talk about this? You're being a child, Alicia."

Snapping her button up onto her toned torso, her fingers frantically worked at the buttons while she glowered at him. Her glossed lips were twitching with pure fury, though Troy didn't dare back down at the death of her appearance, "A child, Troy? You're the one whining. Can't you last a _week_ without crying about something?"

"I'm not crying," his fingers were twitching, so he settled on balling them into fists, "I just want to get passed whatever has your panties in a bundle so I can have my best friend back!"

Alicia was silent for a long moment, just keeping her eyes upon him as though he had just raised satin from the grave. Troy felt a shiver ripple down his spine, suddenly knowing that something was not quite as it seemed. He tried not to let this vulnerability reveal itself, but he could feel the unsettlement begin to squeeze around his neck. The sensation choked him, until his skin scalded with acid. The poison in her eyes slowly oozed down the side of her face, across the pointed bridge of her nose and the ground of her jaw. She appeared deadly, lethal and unforgiving. When she finally tore around, Troy jumped in fright and almost yelped in surprise.

"You know Bolton, you've done some pretty shitty things in your life," Alicia's voice rose threatening, and Troy suddenly became nervous due to his blindness from whatever she was doing behind her back, "But I've never, _never _thought you'd stab me in the back."

There was a clap when she finally whirled around - a twister on the loose – and slapped the papers onto the bed. Staring at her stupidly, Troy attempted to maintain the same rage that she huffed with each breath, but found that confusion was plastered across his cheeks instead. He hesitated before he looked down at the stack, in which he realized they were not papers at all. They were photographs, and when he clumsily collected them, his eyes widened and his heart suddenly crashed to the floor in a thunderous wake.

Oh shit.

They were black and white – clearly taken by a professional by the way they were focused so perfectly. The first few he buzzed through were typical: a disturbing man sat rocking back and forth behind the defense table or the model of the head prosecution strutting with a confident swagger. There were brief snapshots of the grandma-looking judge dressed in her black robes that billowed around her. His heart picked up speed when the press was taken, hurrying to scribble down their notes before the fact was gone. Alicia also made her appearance in some, looking just as poised and qualified as the last.

And then he looked into the mirror, sitting in black with his head bowed, and realized that he was suddenly in the deepest sort of hell he could have managed to enter.

Troy was surprised when he spoke, though it sounded like a frog croaking in a whisper of, "Where did you get these?"

Though he was certain she knew he wasn't going to deny it, there was a flash of pain through her eyes at his words. She yanked the sleeves of her blazer into her arms before crossing them, shielding her body from his despicable actions, "This, Troy? This is my fucking job! You're stupider than you look if you think we don't document this shit."

He had been stupid, naïve to believe that no one would ever discover that he sat in the Douglas trial. At the time, it had seemed that no one would catch him, but he had been a fool. The explanation for Alicia's sudden disappearance after his visit to Albuquerque was suddenly clear. He had vowed he would never step foot in another court room after sitting mutely through Emily's trial, and he had shattered that promise weeks before. Now, with Alicia puffing before him and her face wild with rage, he finally realized the consequences for his terrible mistake.

But already high off of the fumes of anger, Troy glared upwards instead of apologizing, "I thought you said I could sit in whenever I wanted. Can't you make up your fucking mind? Or do you just have to be a drama queen about everything."

"You _swore _you'd never come! No matter how many times I pleaded or screwed you, you would never fucking come!" Alicia's voice was escalading, quickly rising until it was to the explosion.

Troy leaned forward, in a fighter position, "So you agreed to fuck me so I'd come to one of your fucking trials? Nice…"

"YOU COULDN'T HANDLE IT BECAUSE OF HER!"

"DON'T YOU FUCKING BRING EMILY INTO THIS!" Troy roared, the veins in his neck began to bulge. Adrenaline immediately spiked and bled into his blood stream. His eyes, normally so rich with color, iced over in a crystallization that was so jagged it could have sliced through walls.

Of everything Troy had said, this seemed to upset her the most. Her eyes were wild with craze and her hands flew madly around, uncontrollable. If he hadn't been so ravenous himself, he might have been afraid of her unbalanced behavior, but he was too far deep to submerge now. His knuckles cracked and the scars that sliced over his skin seared in the memory. But his reaction only fueled her frantic lash. Neither could be brought back to a normal, civilized matter. It seems that months of this argument had been building, when in fact years of the undertow were finally crashing down in the wave that would surely drown.

"SHE'S DEAD TROY! AND SHE'S STILL CONTROLING YOUR LIFE!"

"I WENT, DIDN'T I?" Troy snarled.

"Sure! After all this time you magically decide you're going to be fine. Real rich Troy."

His eyebrows furrowed together- a thick caterpillar of chestnut, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The room, if it was possible, became denser as Alicia's head bowed. She stared at him through her dark eyelashes, animalistic in her ways and just as fierce. Trembling as she spoke, the curvature of her spine vibrated in a restraint to keep from throwing herself at him with her claws bared. Slowly, venomously, she hissed when the words finally leaked out, "Tell me you didn't go because of her."

It suddenly dawned upon him why she was so angry.

Had it been any other circumstances, it wouldn't have mattered if Troy randomly showed up at one of her trials unannounced. In fact, after she had teased him for not telling her in the first place, she would have probably been ecstatic that he finally got over his memories. She wasn't asking if this was the case, she was far too smart for that. So the way her breath came in short spasms only proved how incredibly screwed Troy was. He froze, dumbstruck with a blank mind. Suddenly, he wished he hadn't come that morning. If he hadn't provoked her, he wouldn't have had to admit the truth that would inevitably rip apart whatever friendship they had left.

"_Tell me_!"

There was a fork in the road, two options that he could take. He could lie. Pretend that his answer was the one she was searching for. It would be quick, simple and easy. Troy had become a master liar since Emily died – even Alicia would be fooled if he uttered the words she so desperately needed to hear.

But when Troy looked up at her – his eyes sapphire with devotion for the woman reverenced – he realized he couldn't deny the powerful love that pumped through his body. They were the windows to his soul, to his heart.

He said nothing.

Alicia stood before him, enraged. When the emotion in his face produced his answer, the first bolt of lightning struck. Trembling, she slowly extended her arm until her pointer finger jutted towards the closed threshold, "Get. Out." She seethed through her teeth, never before as infuriated as she was now.

Troy opened his mouth to protest, beg for mercy even, but he couldn't voice it. Alicia showed no mercy as she bellowed towards him, her green eyes shooting cyanide when she shoved his chest until his back crashed violently against the wood behind. He didn't bother to stop her advances, not even when her hand slapped down on the knob and swung the barricade open. Again, her elbows collided with his chest until he stumbled out into the living area – away from the secrets and moments that were shared between the two.

Their eyes, both bright and desperate, burned together for fourteen long seconds.

The bedroom door rattled on its hinges when it slammed to a close.

* * *

"Gabriella, I need to talk to you."

"Not now." The immediate response snapped back, too busy to peer up at him with her chocolate eyes. Instead, they were fixated on the computer screen that glowed a blinding light in front of her face. Her fingers were numb but her heart was right at home as she scanned the word document for any punctuation mistakes she had just made in the quick minutes that she typed the article on a baby born giraffe at the zoo.

The perpetrator of her thoughts had other ideas, however. Without mercy, he quickly grabbed the back of her chair and swiveled until she faced him. She was so surprised that Gabriella's fingers still hung in typing position when she glanced up at him with dumbfounded eyes.

"Whatever toilet is clogged with rubber ducks can wait Jase, I busy right now." She responded by flexing her fingers and whirling around once again.

The news room was at a moderate pace, as it had been for the past week and few days that Gabriella returned from Albuquerque. It was nice – it gave her less time to obsess about the inevitable meeting on Thursday and her decline of the Los Angeles Times offer. Frank had barely acknowledged her existence other than on a professional level since Jeremy's visit, but she was certain that he believed her stuff was already packed and ready to be shipped off on the next available flight. Each time she attempted to tell him the truth, he waved his stubby fingers and quickly stalked away with a mutter about craving a long-john from the break room.

As soon as she pressed the tips of her fingers against the keyboard, something whipped her around again so she was staring pathetically into the black circles of Jason's eyes, "Gabriella. Now."

It was then that she suddenly noticed the shift in behavior – the way his happy-go-lucky appearance faded. There was no humor in his face as it usually held, no point of a joke by the way the creases around his eyes cobwebbed out in a knot below his lid. Unnerved, Gabriella was stupefied, but nodded nonetheless. Glancing over her shoulder to be certain there were witnesses if Jason happened to lose his mind, she was quickly on his heels as he marched purposefully towards the copy room, the place of their very first meeting all those months ago.

"Jase, you're scaring me." Gabriella said slowly. She gently closed the door behind her to ensure privacy, though the frazzled look on his face made her hesitant.

"You need to see these." Jason mumbled, more to himself than to her. The copier whirled behind in a hum, causing an even soundtrack to his words. After pushing the wrinkles down her gray sweater, Gabriella eyed him carefully as he pulled something from the back of his jeans pocket – clearly just coming from an assignment with his lax wear of clothing.

She raised her eyebrows with perplexity, clearly hesitant about his motives, "What are they? Jase, I really need to get back…"

"Just look." Jason ordered, his face a rock.

He placed whatever stack of thick papers he was fingering upon the table that held home to the copier. Gabriella looked from left to right, nervous of his incentives. But, since she trusted him with her life, she slowly took steps forward in her flats to approach whatever evidence he had fished. Figuring she would humor him, her hands lifted the glossy surface of the paper – photo paper. She sent him one last look of confusion before dropping her gaze to the colored pictures that shined brightly back at her.

"These are from the Douglas trial." Gabriella said skeptically, her stomach turning when she took sight of the psychotic murderer perched behind the defense table. A chill ran down her spine. Flipping through the first few, she scowled when she saw Alicia sitting perfectly poised beside Megan and glancing down at her notes. The brat still hadn't called Troy – she was still acting like an immature little four year-old.

"Stop." He instructed when she reached a snapshot of the audience bustling around between the benches that would be their seating. Her fingers followed his demand and her eyes flashed upwards as though challenging his next move.

"What do you see there?" Jason asked with no trace of humor.

Impatiently, Gabriella sighed, "I see a bunch of people about to watch a psychopath be put into jail. Can I go back to my giraffe now?"

"Look closer."

Following his orders after she rolled her eyes, Gabriella lifted the photograph so close that it tickled over the bridge of her nose. Squinting, she attempted to play "where's waldo" with the spectators who seemed both disgusted and frightened by the scene before them. There was a pregnant woman who was wobbling back into her spot; an elderly gentleman offered his hand to assist her. She saw a wife squeezing her husband's hand until it turned white and a business man who was impatiently checking his watch. Someone in all white leaned against the window, his eyes glazing distantly on the busy street below. The occupant beside him, dressed in all black, allowed his profile to catch the camera while the sun glinted of his intensely blue…

"Oh my god."

Trembling, her hand rose and cupped her mouth as though she were staring into the ghost of the deceased itself. She narrowed her eyes so tightly that the image became blurry before her. With a heart racing, Gabriella's head rose in pure petrifaction, unable to accept what her head had been telling her all along. Jason wasted no time to produce another in confirmation – this time it was a close up version of the onlooker upon the table. Quickly and wordlessly, Gabriella snatched the photograph and studied the way his dress shirt rippled over his built body and the spider webs of scars that reflected off his face.

It suddenly became hard to breathe. The truth was thicker than the air around them. Suddenly, the copy room became a dizzying sensation of grays and blues. Her head felt as though it was filled with an oozing fluid. She couldn't grasp on reality, and if it hadn't been for Jason's reflexive arm jutting out to catch her before she crashed to the ground in a crumple, she would have certainly fainted.

"He was there." Gabriella whispered; her voice was strenuous and haunted.

Jason nodded, "Looks like you weren't delusional at all."

Her breath was short, quick with danger and fright, "I knew I heard him." Gabriella shook her head with disbelief when she finally stood once again. Carefully, Jason held out his arm to be certain that she wouldn't collapse again, "Why did you find this?" She asked with amazement sparkling in her eyes.

Jason shrugged, though his smile was cheeky with happiness that he discovered this, "Apparently the lawyers were looking for them to be released last week… I don't know…some review or shit. And I got the originals back today…"

For the second time in the past minute, Gabriella froze.

In contrast to the first reaction of Troy Bolton's face upon the pictures, her blood ran cold for more violent reasons. Suddenly, the world opened up to her like one of her precious truths being laid upon the table. Rage suddenly began to leak into the four chambers of her heart and slowly pulsated through her veins. Jason's voice droned into a malignant rant. Her nails, cropped short, dug into the surface of her palms. Disgust curled at the edges of her mouth in a scowl, and when she looked down upon the pictures scattered across in a mess, she wished to shred the ones that left her trace.

After months of tension, the internal clock hit its final combustion. From the moment she first took sight of Alicia Moretti in the apartment that fateful evening of Sharpay's show, the thick rivalry began to build. Between the moments stolen with Troy, the thoughts of their sexual experiences and Alicia's inability to accept her as a significant person in his life, the fuse finally ran short. Never before had Gabriella felt this ravenous need for blood, nor had she ever wanted to hit someone as hard as she wished for Alicia as her personal punching bag.

There had been a line between her and Troy's friendship, and she had leapt over it far too many times.

Gabriella had had enough.

"Gabriella? What? What is it?" Jason hurried to ask as her eyes lowered and darkened.

"It's why she's not calling him back." Gabriella hissed, "It's why she's so pissed off."

Doubling in size, Jason's eyes widened, "Gabirella? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't you get it?" Gabriella's practically screamed as she whirled towards him, her eyes black and blazing. The windows leading towards the newsroom rattled under her wake, though her arms were flailing so desperately that it didn't even matter. She felt a rage she couldn't control as she leaned toward him, venom dripping from the sides of her mouth, "Troy promised he'd never go to her trials because he thought about Emily. SHE'S FUCKING PISSED BECAUSE HE CAME TO SUPPORT ME AND NOT HER!"

The dawning of realization did nothing to ease her demeanor, "She's acting like a baby because she's jealous?"

"SHE'S NOT JEALOUS! SHE'S A PSCYHOTIC BITCH WHO WON'T LET HIM BE HAPPY BECAUSE SHE'S TOO FUCKING HORNY FOR HER OWN GOOD!" Gabriella screeched in her anger, though it was not Jason's fault for Alicia's immaturities.

"Gabirella, Gabriella calm down…" Jason attempted to soothe. However, it only earned him a murderous look from the frazzled locks of her black mane.

"Calm down? CALM DOWN?" The sarcasm in her shouts was overwhelming, "SHE'S HURTING HIM BECAUSE SHE CAN'T STAND TO SEE HIM HAPPY!"

"Just take a deep breath…"

"NO!" Gabriella's hysterics were beyond control by now. Her logic was warped by her rage. Therefore, when she glanced up at the clock to see that the normal business hours of the day were completed, a decision was made. For too long she had been stepped on and let the unjust actions of Alicia plague her life. Too many times had she sat and attempted to play nice to the woman who had too great of a hold upon her boyfriend. The lunch dates, the hugs, the kisses: all the jealousy her mind had concocted as a result of the lawyer suddenly blinded her from ration. No longer would she be passive of the situation, not when Alicia was burning Troy alive for such a petty reason.

This was going to end. And it was going to end that day.

Jason was frantic when she snatched the evidence from the table, leaving a picture of Alicia's sinister smile facing her as motivation. Her fingers were nimble, yet furious. Her eyes were snakelike slits, ready for the battle that would ultimately occur as soon as she took her first thunderous step towards the door. Nothing could divert her new mission – not Jason's pleas or the ringing phones just beyond the thin walls. Not even the steady pace of the copier to distract her into thinking about the inevitable consequences between a show down of the two girls. All that mattered was making her pay for the pain she caused Troy.

"What are you doing?" Jason's hand felt scalding upon her shoulder, but she immediately shrugged him off without a glance backwards.

"What I should have fucking done months ago." Her voice slithered over the surface of his arms. She felt him shiver.

"Maybe you should talk to Tro…"

"I've put up with her bullshit for far too long," Gabriella ignored him completely, with her eyes narrowed upon the wooden door, "It's time to end this."

And end, it certainly would.

"Gabs, please just…"

The copy room door rattled on its hinges when it slammed to a close.


	32. Minute Thirty Two

Generally, Gabriella was a gentle person. She was kind to others without being fake and had been since her high school days. She smiled at those who were friendly and gave those in need a helping hand whenever she could. However, she wasn't overbearing. A side of her would not back down if her pride was tested in an unnecessary manor. In high school, she avoided the drama but would never let a comment against any of her friends slide without her interference to be sure they had support. Never would she stoop down to physical means – her weapon of choice was the way she was able to string words together without the other being able to return in a snarky comeback. She hated confrontations and rarely allowed herself to be involved in them. Sometimes, however, desperate times called for desperate measures.

This was definitely a desperate time.

There was a flameless fire that began in the core of her heart and oozed through the rest of her body by her arteries. It hurt, to be stomping up the steps when she really wanted to sprint. The animalistic tendencies that growled from within were struggling to be tamed. Her eyes, normally milky with a dark chocolate rim, were pits of hell. Everything in her vision melted to a sticky substance, and when she reached the floor that the enemy inhabited, she felt the room drip with an evil. The air was course and burned through her esophagus – clumping ashes as they dropped into her stomach.

Her footsteps were heavy with hate – pressing imprints of her flats into the wood like wax. The walls were narrowed and each door seemed to close around her to entrap her. It only fueled her anger more, bringing her closer to the explosion that was inevitably going to combust. The numbers falling from the thresholds of the apartments increased with every stride she took, but they didn't matter. Her search was sharp in its hunt from the Google result of her apartment number. Her journalistic skills came in handy for search of her residence.

Her anger was hard to contain when she finally found the appropriate number and halted before the door. Like a soldier ready for battle, her eyes narrowed and drilled into the wood. She could hesitate and prolong the inevitable as long as she liked, but this confrontation needed to be completed. The wrap of her knuckles thundered through the cracks of the hallway.

There was no answer.

Frustrated, Gabriella would not back down. She was certain the lawyer was not still in the law office; therefore she must be at home. Of course, it was jeopardy in case Alicia had decided to stop anywhere else in the vast city before returning back. In Gabriella's fuming mind, she _should _have been at home, there was no other option. So when she banged on the door once again, the entire frame rattled in her fury. This time, however, there was a shift in movement. Gabriella's breath welded into her throat when the lock clicked and the door swung with just as much rage as she held.

Alicia's voice, jagged with hate, shrilled from behind, "I told you to get...!"

And then it cut off like the slice of a knife. Gabriella black eyes lifted darkly to see Alicia's white face drained the blood from her cheeks. Her momentary anger suddenly disappeared when she looked upon Gabriella's trembling frame. Her eyes were a pale and mossy, a ghost within a forest. The edges were rimmed and puffy with scarlet, she had been crying. She didn't look like the usual, confident self Gabriella was so used to and despised so much. Vulnerability clung to her fingers that pressed against the door, white with fright. Terror had washed over her, an emotion that seemed foreign for such a powerful body.

Gabriella showed no mercy.

She pushed past the lawyer, not even waiting for an invitation. Alicia was too shocked to stop her. She continued to stare wide-eyed with confusion, which might have angered her more. Her obliviousness to the situation was insulting, or maybe it was that Alicia seemed frightened about Gabriella's quick change in demeanor. This aggression was not normal, yet she was offended that Alicia thought she was a dainty little girl who would not fight back. By now, she was past fighting and entered guerilla warfare.

She whirled around again, a tornado loose and thriving. The glare that ripped through Alicia's jeans and t-shirt was powerful enough to knock out two cities. For a long moment, neither said anything. Alicia's natural reaction was suppressed by her stupefied expression. The air they shared was heavy with heat and silent. It appeared that the roommates were out doing whatever they did. The two were alone, no witnesses.

"You know," Gabriella was surprised at the sound of her voice. It wasn't her – instead some monster had taken over her mind and began to hiss with vengeance. She embraced this beast, however. This hatred only gave her an advantage Alicia did not have, "I've put up with a lot of your shit since we met."

Her fists balled, and it was the incision of a sharp edge that reminded her of what she clutched in her hand. The photographs imprinted boils upon her skin. Alicia was dumbstruck, but swallowed slowly before whispering, "I…"

"Do you know what it's like Alicia?" There was a bizarre calmness in the way she spoke, with the defiance, "To watch someone you care about suffer because of one person's idiotic pride?"

At this question, Alicia's head snapped up and her eyes widened in recognition. Gabriella was too far fuming to notice, however. Her face felt too hot against her cheeks – there was nothing more that the wanted than to lash out at that moment. But patience was key – he needed the right moment for the serpent in her chest to strike.

Alicia swallowed, thickly and hoarsely, "Ye…"

"He doesn't want me to know how much this is killing him." Gabriella seethed with bitterness towards Troy himself and towards his precious best friend. Her tempo was lethal, jagged like broken ice. For a brief moment, she imagined this was the way Troy's eyes would have looked if he was standing in her place instead, "He can hide his basketball history and his fiancé, but he can't hide his pain. Not to me."

Of everything she had said, this slapped Alicia violently. There was a brief glimmer of anger that swam in her emerald irises. This only infuriated Gabriella further. How dare she be upset that Gabriella had actually cracked the code to Troy's past? She had proved time over and over again that she would be able to keep the secret and that she was worthy of this information. It was not Alicia's decision whether or not she was introduced to haunting memories that overcast his life. It was Troy's, and if she was really the best friend she claimed to be, there would not have been an issue.

The heat between them could last no longer. Violently, Gabriella cracked the photographs onto the kitchen table that held an eerie, orange glow from the kitchen. Troy's enlarged cheek faced upwards, almost reflecting into the translucent skin above. At the unexpected outburst, Alicia practically jumped backwards in terror "Of _everything_ you've done. I've _never _wished you weren't in Troy's life until now."

There were tears that suddenly flooded her eyes – big, beautiful tears that looked so out of place in her ducts. It was like looking into a stranger, a weak woman compared to the strength that the lawyer normally held. This wasn't what Gabriella wanted. She wanted her to explain herself, to fight back. But Alicia appeared so small, fragile even. It unnerved Gabriella, more than anything else.

"You don't… understand…" Alicia finally choked, though no sobs erupted. The trickles of tears were silent, making them deadly.

"I don't understand? I don't _understand!_" By now, Gabriella was teetering on the thin boarder of hysterical. Her eyes were wild and rapid and her voice shrieked as she shouted, "I understand perfectly! You're fucking with Troy because he wanted to _support _me, yet he never supported you. I'm sorry that he was a bit of a hypocrite, but it's not the end of the fucking world. Get over it and stop acting like a little high school brat. That trial was fucking important to me, so he wanted to be there for me. Is that a crime? Huh?"

"He promised…"

"So what, you're going to punish him for having flashbacks to Emily's trial? To the pain that it causes him to think about her? Because he loved her? You're so selfish." Gabriella shook her head with disgust; her black curls flew around haphazardly.

This made Alicia's lip curl up with hatred. Through her tears, her face lowered into a scowl, "You don't know _anything _about Emily."

"You really think I wouldn't find out? You think he wouldn't _want _me to find out?" Gabriella hissed, her heart punching against her ribs so hard that it was painful, "I care about him. But I'm sure you wouldn't understand that."

"Don't _ever _say that I don't care about him!"

The scream was so unexpected that it made Gabriella leap backwards in fright. By this point, Alicia's cries were moving much more swiftly, but mutely. Perhaps she was now just as dangerous as Gabriella was. She wouldn't know, but she also felt a competitive surge of poison leak into her veins again, "Right, you care so much about his health so that when he dumps me, he'll come crawling back on his dick so you can get the best of both worlds again, huh?" Gabriella asked venomously, repeating the words Sharpay spoke so long ago.

"Just shut up!" roared Alicia.

Her fingers stroked over the surface of the kitchen table while she snarled, "You know what I'm giving up for him? I'm giving up writing for the fucking Los Angeles Times. _The Times_. Because I care about him so goddam much it hurts. You won't get that though."

Alicia looked horrified by the information that just slipped. It was a stupid mistake. In hindsight, Gabriella should have realized the consequences of her actions, but of course she was much too riled up and fuming to really pay attention. Though she was stunned, Alicia didn't back down. Instead she huffed and leaned forward, desperation leaking from the edges of her crisp voice, "You don't know _anything_ Montez!"

"I know a hell of a lot more then you. Because you're the one who fucks him when he's in pain. Taking advantage cuz you're lonely? Nice." Gabriella snapped.

"You don't get it!"

Gabriella finally crossed her arms, her olive face glowering, "I don't blame you, you know. It's like getting your cake and eating it too. You can fall in love with anyone you want, but Troy's always there to curb your appetite until something better comes along."

"I would _never _put Troy in second place!" Alicia's tears made her voice muffled. She was sobbing, but it didn't make Gabriella ease up. Contrary, it only fed the monster that stirred.

"Why? Cuz you'll be able to come back to him if you get bored?"

"Stop!" She screamed, "I don't want to be fuck buddies with Troy!"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm in love with him!"

The world suddenly stopped spinning.

Or maybe it was the opposite – maybe the world began to rotate at a gravitational pull that was far too hard and intense for her to locate herself in. Everything suddenly became a haze – the glow of the kitchen swirled in a brassy hue. The open atmosphere and the light wood that adorned the walls suddenly collapsed upon her. The four bedroom doors were closed, creating the sensation that air was suctioned from the room. Behind her eyelids, she became dizzy with realization. Reaching out, the only thing she could do before collapsing to the ground is a heap was fiercely grip the back of the chair in her abashment.

"_What_?" Gabriella hissed, leaking fire from the sides of her mouth.

Alicia was just as shocked as she was. It seemed to be a secret she hadn't wanted to be revealed – one that she wanted to keep to her grave. Her skin was completely drained of color. Almost as though she was a ghost of his past, a corpse as Emily was.

"I love him." Alicia whispered this time, never faltering her gaze.

Gabriella wrapped her other fingers around the rungs of the chair. She struggled to keep balance when she mouthed, "You… you love him." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Of course she loved him. How had she been so stupid to believe otherwise? Alicia had lied to all of them – Gabriella, Chad, Sharpay and most importantly, Troy. But how could Gabriella not see it in the way her jade eyes flickered with a golden shimmer when he walked in the room? There had been a magnet that drew between them, an unexplainable force that kept them welded together no matter what the other did. And he was _Troy_. Gabriella had fallen in love with him without physical desire or completely knowing the vulnerability of his past that made him so much more _human_. Maybe she had struggled for so long to deny the obvious that was plastered in front of her.

"You… you promised him you wouldn't…" Gabriella gapped, breathless.

Alicia let out a breath that struggled within her throat. Again, she appeared so tiny. The muscles that wrapped her body were just little stretches of white skin. Eyes hollowed with agony, she squeezed them shut and pressed her face into her hands with a tremble.

"I… I couldn't…. he was finally giving me almost everything I wanted…" She crumpled to the floor, her stomach folding to keep from the contents from spilling out.

Almost everything, except his love back.

Gabriella blinked stupidly, "You lied to him." She murmured, remembering Chad's warning of his hatred towards liars.

Peaking pathetically through her fingers, her eyes took up the majority of her face, "What would you have done?"

Her immediate reaction was that she would have told him the truth all along. It would have saved both of them the misery that was now in their immediate future. But then she imagined Troy's hands, when he trailed his electric touch delicately over the crevices of her arm or when their fingers tenderly laced before proving his love to her. It was like gravity. Invisible to the eye, but moved irrevocably, grounding her to the very foundations of the earth with its grasp.

She wouldn't have scarified that for anything.

"You have to tell him." Gabriella choked, feeling Alicia's pain finally ripple through her.

She didn't say anything, but her silence was enough confirmation that she knew Gabriella was right.

"You know," Alicia started, her sobs now calmed to even streaks of tears, "After Emily died, I never thought I'd feel this again." Her hand clutched just above the curve of her tiny breast, just above her broken heart, "I thought he wouldn't be able to love anyone else."

Finally, she looked up at the journalist as if searching for truth, the way she might have during a court case. Gabriella swallowed. Feeling the scorch of her blood in her veins when she realized what had to be done, the decision that needed to be made. The ball suddenly wasn't in her court anymore. She was passing her racket on to the one who needed to hear those words more than she had. The one who needed his best friend to finally confess what she had been hiding for years.

If there was any chance to still be with Troy Bolton, he needed to know Alicia Moretti's love.

"And then he met you." Alicia's voice whispered.

* * *

There was an eerie glisten of rusty light upon his golden skin as he hurried down the hallway that evening.

Troy's stride was slowly paced, a contrast to his nimble ways. His eyes were widened, dilated to be certain that if placed in a situation that he needed to make a quick decision, he'd be able to do so. A gurgled of his stomach wasn't a reminder of hunger – it was the sickening slosh of his contents every time his mind replayed the morning's incident like a tape of a bad accident. His legs were dragging with defeat and his mind was just as tired. He didn't know what time it was, nor cared much, except that he knew it was sometime into the evening due to the glittering lights he had escaped from when he entered the apartment building.

Call it paranoia or intuition, Troy had felt uneasy when he had dropped his gym bag in his own apartment only to be greeted with a haunting silence. He had called for his girlfriend and searched the crevices of the loft, only to find his company as nothing. It unnerved him – they hadn't slept alone since he had given her his key. It was a weeknight, which meant they always housed at Troy's. Maybe the argument with Alicia was altering his thoughts into making a big deal out of nothing, but it shook him that she was not in her proper place.

After fishing the spare key from his pocket, he jiggled them into the door he knew oh so well. A glance was thrown behind, to see that Chad and Taylor's apartment was closed and blissful, unlike the tension Troy felt balling in the back of his neck. He sighed and slowly pushed the door open to find the apartment dimly lit and silent: no television running, no obnoxious radio and no hums from Gabriella. If Troy hadn't noticed the flicker of movement near the cupboards, he would have thought it was vacant.

Despite the argument with Alicia that clouded his mind, Troy couldn't help but smile at the thin shimmer of her body as she faced the wall, away from him.

A physical need almost as much as nourishment began to pulsate through his heart. The magnet in his chest ached and pounded wildly to direct him towards her slim figure. Troy couldn't help himself and suddenly broke into an even step as he approached. At the sound of his footsteps, he watched the ridges of her shoulders tense beneath the maroon knit that covered her perfect body.

Tenderly, he trailed his fingertips down the surface of her arms and carefully dug his nose into the mess of her hair. She arched reflexively into his embrace from behind, reveling in the feel of her slender back against his sculpted chest. Her skin felt like wildfire – racing the ticks of time, consuming everything its path.

A kiss, dangerous and desperate, pressed against her neck as Troy stretched his hands to slide through the divisions between her fingers, "I've waited for this moment all day." His voice was huskier than he intended, passionate.

He barely noticed the stiffness of her limbs as he wrapped both sets of their arms around her tiny stomach. All that mattered was that she was here, in his grasp and he never wanted to let her go. Pushing aside the ebony coils that cascaded around her, Troy continued to pepper sweet kisses to the exposure of neck. They trailed up to her jaw and searched for the final destination of her mouth. However, when they brushed against the silky surface of her cheek, the sudden tangy taste of salt lingered on his tongue. Confused, Troy kissed her again and once again felt the burning scald that was left in his mouth. He recognized the flavor – it was one he had distaste for.

Tears.

"Gabriella." Troy breathed, his heart in a race he couldn't win.

His hands, skilled by the hours he had put into shooting baskets, carefully, yet urgently, spun her around so she faced him. Immediately, her puffy eyes averted to the bottom corner, staring at the floor instead of at him. Panic surged through him. Without thinking, Troy frantically searched the curves of her body: her face, her chest and the inside of her thighs for the perpetrator's fingerprints. His mind automatically began to think of future plans and how long it would take to reach over to the phone and dial 911.

"Nothing like that..." Gabriella hiccupped and weakly swatted his advances. When she spoke, Troy's eyes shot up to attempt to meet her stare. Again, he was caught with her gaze penetrating towards a different source above his shoulders. It frustrated him.

"What happened?" he demanded and grabbed her shoulders, slightly more violently than intended. Gabriella blinked as though her mind was reeling over the options of responses she could return with.

The hesitation was unbearable. The energy that traveled through his fingertips needed to be contained. If he didn't get a hold on himself, he'd make her even more upset. His touches, which were in an attempt to be soothing, hurried over her shoulders and down to her arms. But she was unresponsive, which scared him the most.

"You…" Gabriella whispered and squeezed her eyes shut, pained.

"Gabriella, Gabriella look at me."

Framing her angelic face, Troy reached up and cupped either side of her cheeks, making her look up at him. Her eyes smoldered, burning a flame that rushed over the veins that mapped his body. The big, beautiful tears that danced over his fingers with her cries made her more stunning, if that was possible. It was artwork, but at a sacrifice he would have never made. The soft pillows of her lips opened to search for the words that would not come. His heart was so loud it clattered the dishes that hung in the sink.

Slowly, Gabriella breathed, "You need to talk to Alicia."

His stomach dropped to the floor. These tears were brought on by him, unintentionally. It was his fault – had he not been neglecting her the past week because he had been so wrapped up with Alicia, she wouldn't be standing before him with trembles rippling down her spine. Quickly, he tried to engulf her into a hug, but she remained glued to the spot where she remained. His arms, covered by a thermal to match his eyes, stroked the tiny divot in her back to initiate some sort of reaction, but it was useless. This left him at an ill ease, and unsteadying fuel of emotions that she was almost _denying _him.

For the first time in years, Troy suddenly became scared shitless.

"You don't need to worry about it, alright?" He cooed, peppering kisses into her black tresses and tried not to wince – she was stiff as a board, "You and me. That's all that matters."

"Troy," the force she used to finally push him away was surprising. It wasn't meant to be aggressive, but the unexpectedness made him stumble backwards. His eyes shined as they widened with pure petrifaction. If possible, she became more rigid than before, "Go talk to Alicia."

He spoke carefully, choosing his words wisely when he stepped forward, "I tried to, this morning…"

"Go again."

Nothing made sense. Her persistence was not only random, but out of character as well. Similar to her tears – she was normally a strong woman with a feminine edge. This wasn't like her.

"I'll call her later, alright? You just need to sit down." Troy promised, reaching out to her again.

Gabriella shook her head, her long hair flailing in all directions, "No, Troy you need to go right now."

He saw the desperation in her plea when he looked up at her again. Now, she was crouched slightly, ready to bound out of reach if he attempted to comfort her again. There was a glimmer of uncertainty and fear that beamed from the olive of her skin and the curve of her face. Her features were hard with defense, ready to spring away. It was then that he realized she would not agree to his requests to talk things through. The only thing that would ease her tension would be to respect her wishes. His stomach twisted - a knife in his abdomen. Something had transpired in the past fourteen hours since he last left her arms. Something sinister, dangerous that would put her upon this edge of hysterics.

Something that involved Alicia.

Which meant something that involved his past.

Swallowing thickly, Troy nodded, "I'll talk to her."

There was a flicker when her teeth caught her bottom lip, "You have to go now."

"When I come back, you and I are going to talk, alright?" He attempted to reason as though she were unstable.

The way she didn't answer him sent a shiver through his bones, "Go, please."

His body desperately wanted to close the distance between them and press his lips to her forehead, soothing her the way he desired. That was not possible, not with the way she shielded herself away from him in protection. It was ironic – Troy had been trying to get a hold of his best friend for a week straight and now that he was finally given the opportunity to actually speak with her, there was nothing more than he wanted than to stay here and discover why Gabriella was acting so bizarre. Why she was, dare he say it, _afraid _of him.

"Please, don't leave here. Just… stay until I get back." Troy pleaded in a wobbly voice.

This only made the tears run faster, but Gabriella nodded and cupped her palm to her mouth to fight a sob, "Go."

His eyes met hers one last time in a panic before he cleared his throat and marched to the beat of an imaginary drum towards the door.


	33. Minute Thirty Three

**A/N: The song for this chapter is Love the Way You Lie.**

**And I'm scared...**

**

* * *

**

It felt like a bizarre sense of déjà vu, with a few twists.

It hadn't been more than fifteen hours that he had stood in front of Alicia Moretti's door just as he was at that moment. Both times hadn't been for pleasure or to drop by for a blissful visit. The intentions were the same as well - he wanted to speak with her about a matter that had been plaguing him. He had hurried to reach her apartment twice that day, more than he had anticipated. As equally as when he banged on her door hours before, he had high hopes to resolve whatever conflict was going on between them.

Obviously, there were differences as well.

First, his mood had quickly switched from pure anger to fright. That morning, he had been raging because Alicia's pride had been too great and she refused to answer his calls. It bothered him to the point that he could take it no longer, so he snapped and thrust himself into the line of fire. Now, he was no calmer than he was before work, but he was utterly petrified as to why Gabriella was demanding that he see Alicia without hesitation. It was dark outside now, more sinister and haunting than the sunlight that had beamed through the windows of the apartments. Most importantly, the morning barge had only been to help him. This time, all he could think about was making sure Gabriella would be okay.

That was the only reason he had the strength he used to knock on Alicia Moretti's apartment once again.

It took about a fourth of the time for the door to open in comparison to that morning. This left Troy no preparation to how he was going to approach her or what he was going to say. Therefore, when the door to her apartment creaked, he took an abrupt step backwards with confusion and surprise. Expecting to find Jenny to shoo him again, he was greeted with two glistening tears falling rapidly down the side of his best friend's face – her eyes were puffy and bloodshot.

Was it national sob day and he never got the memo?

"Alicia?" He felt a rush of uncertainty and slight fright as he took full sight of her.

She stood in the doorway with her white sweater pulled and dirtied at the sleeves. Her face was blotchy and swollen, clearly stained by what looked like an hour of this depression. A part of him surged to rush to her and comfort her since they had been through hell and back in the years that they had known each other, and this was most definitely not normal for her usually tough exterior. The other part of him, the more dominant part, was frozen in his spot. The mixture of emotions from the rage from the argument that morning and the anger for indirectly upsetting his girlfriend made his legs lock with distrust.

With a wobble of her lip, Alicia let out a breath that rasped his name, "Troy."

Again, there was a fight within. He couldn't understand what possessed him to hold back and restrain his affection towards her- unlike Gabriella. All he could do was swallow and glance up at her with pleading eyes, "I um… I know you kicked me out but…"

Alicia sniffled and looked towards the ground, "Gabriella sent you, didn't she?"

A twist of distaste turned in his stomach. A few hours before, Alicia was cursing who ever brought the aspiring journalist into the world. Now, her voice was unaffected by his girlfriend's name. Troy reflexively crossed his arms and felt his glower once again return to his face. For the momentary lapse of anger due to the panic and perplexity of Gabriella's request, his aggression was once again returning. The memory of standing just a few feet away and feeling the rush of wind as Alicia slammed the bedroom door in his face pierced sharply against his brain. Slowly, it was once again making him dangerous and preparing his system for a fight.

"What the fuck is going on?" Troy demanded, his voice crusted with a hardening edge, "Alicia? What the hell did you do to her?"

Taking a deep breath, Alicia allowed her stained eyelids to close, "Here we go."

With that, Alicia spun on her bare feet and walked into the empty apartment. The ghostly sound of her soles flapping against floor left him in solitude. From what he could tell from the threshold, the kitchen was the only light that shone a long, golden shadow across the table and into the blackness of the night. Had it been anyone else, Troy would have taken the abandonment as a wordless message to leave the vicinity. But the door left wide open had always held a significance that was unique to the best friend. It wasn't a shun…

It was an invitation.

Silence consumed when he gently closed the door behind him. The atmosphere was too black – it was as though something, or someone, was lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. A wicked insect crawled beneath the surface of his bronzed skin, sending his system on a high alert. His eyes, shining against the faint light, dilated in order to maneuver towards the trembling figure perched upon the couch. He felt like a phantom, gliding over the broken glass and shattered dreams of his past. Slowly, his anger began to trickle through his pores like pooling blood. It was replaced by fear, raw and cruel petrifaction as he crept in front of the couch to take sight of his best friend, cowering into the divisions of the cushions to hide from the world.

It was then that Troy finally woke up and realized she was in pain.

"Alicia," he whispered urgently, no trace of a grudge on his tongue. Without control, Troy dropped to his knees and crawled upon his jeans to reach her. Carefully, his hand lifted and pushed aside the curtain her long hair mimicked. Burnt by his touch, Alicia immediately turned away and coiled herself into a ball. This sent his heartbeat into overdrive – Alicia attacked situations head on, like a snarling bull. This, this weak woman with cries echoing off the surfaces of the shadow covered walls, wasn't her. It was an imposter; it had to be, "Alicia…. Alicia…"

Her name was a sin on his lips, scaled the flesh of his mouth like acid. Attempting to capture her hands that were trying to push his shoulders back, Troy felt his heart began to punch against his chest until it turned unbearably painful. Every inch of him began to blister, knowing that something was about to go terribly wrong.

"Alicia, stop!" Her resistance immediately halted at his order, the white of her eyes shining with death. Rolling higher so he could be level, Troy clasped her hands on his collar bone and squeezed tightly with encouragement. The heat between them intensified as her strong, and flat, chest huffed in panic. Her pupils darted every so often, unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. Nothing had ever been awkward between the two, so this was unnatural.

"What- What is going on?" He asked, flickering over the sharp edges of her face in hunt for the truth.

It seemed as though her vocal cords had been sliced since they last saw each other. Maybe the words she had snapped earlier were so cruel that they enflamed desperately, he tried to think of anything to soothe her into the revelation. Unconsciously, he curled her straightened hair behind her ears and attempted a wobbly smile up at her. Unfortunately, it appeared to look more like a maligned clown than a source of comfort.

Figuring she was not going to distribute any information without encouragement, Troy tilted his head and started from the beginning, "Okay," he said in a soft voice, careful not to startle her, "will you at least tell me why Gabriella demanded I came to see you? Can we start there?"

The wince when he spoke her name did not go unnoticed. However, it wasn't out of spite as it usually was. This time, it was out of dread. But, on the bright side, she was responsive. Another deep breath rattled the windows that glared the haunting lights of New York City. She looked down at her lap and her tone was unusually quiet, "Um… after you left… after work…. Gabriella came by…"

Troy moved his head backwards, aghast, "She what?" He asked in disbelief. It was no secret that Alicia and Gabriella were not on decent terms enough to even be considered as acquaintances, let alone friends that casually dropped by for visits. But Alicia stiffly nodded, her chin pointed down and tucked into her neck so her mahogany strands shielded once again.

"She was… angry…"

His eyebrows furrowed – it seemed like a bizarre concept for Gabriella to be cross, "I don't understand."

This seemed to surprise Alicia. Finally, her eyes lifted and he was slammed with the intensity of her emerald eyes, coated with a red rim of despair, "You didn't tell her about this morning?"

"Umm," Troy swallowed the awkwardness of remembering their screams and shouts from the depths of her bedroom a few feet away, "No. Why…"

It suddenly dawned upon him – Gabriella had somehow found out he had attended the trial and pieced the information together. He had always admired her for her aptitude to solving riddles that no one else could discover, even if it petrified him at some moments. But he hadn't wanted to involve her with his troubles, nor did he want Alicia to have any more reason to dislike her. The inevitable ultimately revealed itself, and he was stuck with the mess to handle. He knew it was his fault though – had he not showed up at the trial that he knew both would be at, none of this would have happened.

"Leesh… that was between just us. Don't blame her, alright? I was upset this past week and…" His attempts to make amends were suddenly halted when he took sight of the desperation in her face. The way the shadows passed over her cheeks as though she were lying in a casket six feet beneath the ground suddenly made themselves present to her. He realized there was more to the story besides Gabriella's inability to keep her temper at bay.

"What is – what is going on?" Troy asked again, his voice cracking.

The tears swelled again and silently dripped down her cheeks. Frozen, Troy tried to force himself to wipe them away, but he couldn't. All he could do was pathetically remain on his knees while Alicia began to ramble, "I don't know how to… Troy… I…"

"Hey, hey…" he finally cooed and collected her calloused hands into his. The glimmer from the kitchen shined off his face, revealing the hidden scar as he whispered, "it's just me, alright? It's just Troy, just your best friend."

Fourteen excruciating seconds passed before Alicia slowly spoke, "That's why I can't say it."

"Can't say what? Alicia?"

She looked up at him in the darkness with power, intensity – adoration, even. Her eyes flamed with an inferno of a jade ignition. They shined, glistened under the golden glow with an emotion she never had before. Quivering, her hands removed themselves from his shoulders and she braced her knees. In different times, Troy might have leaned over and covered them with the large area of his palms. He didn't though - he just stared blindly as she danced across his cheeks, his forehead, and his nose. The pang of foreboding began to pulsate in his stomach; an unconscious part of him began to flick the alarms in his brain on.

"I don't know if I can." Her words were lost with the wind that swept before her slim lips.

He began to breathe heavily, for he suddenly understood what she was trying to convey. He knew the gaze she was giving him – it was identical to the one he had sent Emily before he first asked her out on a date. Years later, it was the look of devotion as he watched Gabriella sang his name into his ear before reaching her peak. It was the same look that he beamed across his face every night, when he watched the even pace of her chest rise and fall with the appearance of peace that haloed over her cheeks.

It was the look he had been terrified Alicia would one day give him.

No matter how much his mind was screaming at him to stop or how much he didn't want to hear it, Troy felt himself be hypnotized by both fear as he whispered, "Say it."

Her mouth trembled and her face scrunched, ready to burst to tears, "Troy…."

"Say it."

Green never left blue.

"I'm in love with you."

In the seconds before her confession, Troy had anticipated the words. But it didn't soften the blow. Immediately, a knife jerked into his stomach, oozing pain over the grooves of his abdomen like poison. The earth beneath him vibrated, rattled dangerously, shifting the plates beneath the earth with its wake. The insect beneath his flesh began to gnaw at his built muscles, in search of his raw vulnerability. Somewhere in the depths of his body – he wasn't sure of the exact location – his organs screamed and threatened to fail, just as he had. Trembling, Troy listened to the only sound of his pulse pounding into his ear and their breaths sucking in oxygen in an unharmonious synchrony. Her voice haunted within his ears, scratching his drums until he could take it no longer.

His worst nightmare had come true.

Troy closed his eyes with excruciation. Simultaneously, his head bowed into his hands, "Please tell me this started a month ago. A week. Yesterday." He pleaded, peaking at her shaking body through his finger tips and was answered with silence, confirming his fears.

His body suddenly ached and he could no longer remain before her. Troy rolled back onto his feet and mechanically began to pace through the glimmer of light that sprawled beside her on the bed. Alicia remained in the shadows, watching his every movement with catlike eyes. The sound of his footsteps boomed against the floor – making her shoulders tense with every stagger and stride. He couldn't look at her – the world crumbled every time he took sight of her hidden toes or pants leg. Everything he had fought against, every terror that had washed over him was a reality. A sickening reality.

He reached the wall and stopped before it, a barrier to his destination of nowhere. For a long moment, he stared at it blankly, lost. The only movement he made was to place his palms upon it and lean forward, ramming his forehead against them in angst.

Apparently, the stillness was too much, for he finally heard Alicia's rasp, "Say something."

A part of him, and he didn't know how dominant that may be, wanted to scream at her. He wanted to demand that she erase every touch and kiss and lick he had ever bestowed upon her. So desperately, he wished the hands of the clock would twist in reverse. Back years before, when things were simpler, without the mess of cohesion. His sanity took control though. Flashing his eyes, sharp with betrayal, he turned towards her and watched her flinch, but quickly recovered in true Alicia fashion. His heart sighed with relief, knowing his best friend was still within the crying girl he didn't recognize.

"You promised me." He hissed between his teeth.

She nodded, "I know."

"Then why the fuck did you lie to me?"

Alicia swallowed and finally rose to a stance, wiping the tears away from her jade eyes, "What did you want me to do, Troy?"

"I don't know, be honest with me when I fucked you?" his growl rumbled beneath their feet. He wasn't trying to summon his anger again, but knowing she lied to him – the deadliest sin in his eyes, yet a skill he had mastered – revealed the worst.

She set her jaw to fight back, but in the looming darkness, he could tell she was clenching her fists to keep from rising her voice as well, "I couldn't," her whisper was rubbing his ears like death, her eyes bright with desperation when she took a defining step forwards, "you were giving me… what I always wanted…"

He felt bipolar, quickly switching his mood from fuming to caring when her tears rained faster. He strode to her, but didn't dare place a hand upon her body. Afraid of the toxic touch, he settled on running his fingers through his cropped hair in pure distress, "How could you let me do that to you? Use you?"

Alicia crossed her arms, her tears beginning to evaporate from her paled cheeks. "I had watched you with Emily for so long… I just wanted to feel… you…all of you…" Her eyes lifted, the penetration almost knocked him backwards. Troy pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, trying to wrap his head around the discovery that still felt more like a bad dream to him. He wished that he'd suddenly wake up and find his body curled around Gabriella's, listening to her heartbeat bump against his. But no matter how hard he willed, he was imprisoned in the blackness that consumed them.

"What…" Alicia's voice choked and forced her to take a breath to collect herself, "what are you thinking?"

Troy paused for a long moment, staring anywhere but at her, "I'm angry," he confessed, drilling his ceruleans into the depths of her emeralds. Immediately, Alicia winced but refused to allow any more liquid stream from her eyes, "I told you if you _ever _felt this way, you had to tell me. And you didn't…"

"Troy," she injected.

"I'm upset with myself," Troy interrupted, ignoring her calls to attention, "because I was too fucking stupid to think that I could sleep with you and it wouldn't have consequences. And I'm scared, because we finally have to deal with this, and I don't want to wait for things to go back to the way they used to be. Before Emily, before this goddamn shit."

The moment the words slipped from his lips, he knew there was something not right. The air in the room suddenly rotated – a cyclone of tension whirled around his body. The silence between the two was too deep, too thick with spilt blood. Alicia's breath began to escalade. Her gaze, hard and unbreakable, never left his. The bug began to scurry through his biceps and wiggled through his veins, the destination being his heart.

"I don't…." she took a breath to control her sobs, "I don't think… they ever can…"

Troy suddenly felt nervous and desperate. He leapt forward to reach her, but Alicia took just as large of a step backwards, "We can get through this… we can…"

"No Troy," her voice was as sharp and deadly as glass, "we can't."

In the blackness, Alicia's hands began to tremble as she slowly spoke, "I told you Troy, I can't be in second place. I can't handle it."

The recorder in his brain rewound to months before, when he had first confessed that Gabriella had officially stolen his heart. Alicia had revealed the story of her gymnastic career. Everything suddenly made sense with perfect, heartbreaking clarity, "Gabriella is Erin." Troy whispered, strained with guilt and pain.

His heart stabbed when he remember Alicia's remedy for ridding her second place streak.

"No!" He yelled desperately, rushing towards her and gripped her shoulders with desperation, "No you can't be serious…"

Every inch of him suddenly felt as though it was injected with jagged ice: the tips of his fingers, the edges of his toes, the curve of his nose. The ultimatum bestowed was enough to rip the seams of his limbs. Obviously, due to their headstrong personalities, they had screamed and shouted at each other until their lungs ran raspy in previous arguments. But what Alicia was suggesting, the final sever of all ties – friendship or more – was something unfathomable. Alicia was his rock; the only connection to his haunted past that he wished to remain a part of him. Losing her was losing a chunk of himself. The thought made his organs ache a familiar sensation of despair.

The only other time he had ever experienced this finality was when the doctors informed him his fiancée was dead.

Only this hurt more.

"You can't… Alicia, you can't be… no this isn't…"

A part of him thought this was her idea of a masochistic joke. He wanted her to spring from the stiff position she was in and double over in laughter; this was just sick revenge for the argument that transpired that morning. But she was stone – unbreakable at the edges, designed to weather any storm.

Unable to stand the dizziness that spread over his skin, Troy felt his legs crumple beneath his weight. The couch sprung beneath when he landed upon the cushions to keep him from sleeping into unconsciousness. Immediately, as a best friend truly would, Alicia dropped to her knees and replaced where he had been a few minutes before. He placed his head, which was spinning violently, into his hands and prayed for this nightmare to end.

"Troy," Alicia hummed softly, unusual for her dominating nature, "Don't make this harder."

"I'm not just going to let you go because of something this stupid." His voice was ridged as he lifted his head again to stare intently at her.

A slight anger flashed over the points of her clouded face, "You think this is stupid, Troy?"

"I didn't mean that was stupid. I meant you wanting to waste everything because things will be awkward for a few weeks."

Alicia let out a dry crackle, though nothing was funny, "Nothing will ever be the same between us."

"Yes. It. Will." Troy growled.

Her chestnut tresses shined in the sliver of light, "You can't have it both ways, Troy."

"I love you, Alicia," he took a steadying breath and tried to promote as much intensity as he could possibly muster, "if you really love me, then why are you doing this?"

Alicia shook her head and reached up, pressing her fingers gingerly against his cheek. A liquid glistened off the tips of her flesh. It took a long moment before Troy realized it was the scars of his tears – the vulnerability he hadn't even realized he released, "Because you don't love me the way I love you. Our friendship isn't healthy Troy, not anymore. Not after Emily." Her whisper haunted against his ears – he knew it was true.

Troy grabbed her hand and squeezed, "We can work through this. One day at a time."

"Troy, I don't _want _to work through this."

Of everything she had said that night, this stung the most. The idea of not having Alicia in his life was unbearable, she had admitted she loved him, yet it was so easy for her to cast away the late night study sessions and gut busting laughter that they had shared. Troy was prepared for a fight – ready to battle through this momentary blip of their friendship until they could return to the special connection they had. But if Alicia refused to put on her armor as well, then was it worth the struggles? If she cared about him as much as she claimed she did, then wouldn't she want to work out? It didn't make sense for her to speak these words of abandonment, of forgotten friendship. He refused to accept it.

He didn't want to argue any longer, so he settled on begs, "Alicia. Please. I can't – I can't do this without you."

"Yes you can," she said, defeated, "but regardless, this isn't about you. This is about me, this is about fixing the mistake we made."

"If I would have _ever _thought…I would have never…"

She smiled bitterly, "Life's a bitch, isn't it?"

As he looked up into her eyes, he realized the strength that stood. Whether it had been the exterior she had had to build after every kiss he shoved upon her or the pain of watching him fall for two other women, there was no convincing, not any more. Alicia had previously warned him of the curse of the second place. He couldn't blame her for it, but he couldn't stand the thought of never seeing her again – of the wasted moments with her. Knowing that these next minutes would be the last was unbearable; it made the wounds of his heart slice open once again.

"Don't do this." He pleaded uselessly, unable to keep the distance any longer. He brought her palm up to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, "As a brother, as a best friend, as…as someone you love," he choked on the end, which made her stiffen again, "don't."

"Not everyone can give up their dream for you, Troy," Alicia, stone cold as she spoke, slowly eased herself backwards, "I'm not Gabriella. I can't compete with her, so I can't be as selfless as her."

His fists clenched around her, "I don't want you to be her. She's one of a kind."

"But_ I_ want to be her," a quick gasp of her lungs, "I want to be the one who makes your eyes light up, who cheers for the Warriors, who gives up working for The LA Times for you…I won't sit and be jealous of her any longer."

The last part went unheard. Through the emotions and pain that he had endured that evening, the cake was suddenly frosted. As if his night couldn't get any worse, Troy's eyes finally shot up – icy and penetrating as he glared upon her, for the very last time.

"Who gives up _what _for me?"

* * *

Although she had been lying blankly on the couch for the past two hours, Gabriella had not been prepared for the sound of the key to jiggling into the lock.

Since she had been in such a vegetable state for so long, it was difficult to detach herself from the limbo of her mind when the thump of sneakers upon her flooring echoed through the silence. It felt as though the world was a swirl of distant sensations and emotions that she wasn't quite used to. Her eyes, which had been staring unblinking towards the walls, felt strained. The numbness in her limbs and ribs began to slowly thaw, like malaises oozing through her veins. Reality, in all its horror and evilness, began to rise once again. A slow build beneath the walls of her stomach escalading as the footsteps became louder. Her eye lids fluttered to remove the dust and she was greeted with the golden lights that illuminated the apartment from above.

She felt the fear she had been anticipating when she caught sight of the periwinkle long sleeve that hugged the contours of his defined chest, proving her dissociation was over and she was back into the mess that she had left. Unable to look into his face yet, she stared at how his jeans hung low on his hips and the cut at the bottom flapped over his sneakers. It reminded her of the day she first met him – the night beneath the ass shaped paint mark on the sign that welcomed her to the city. Now, after she had kissed and touched every inch of him more times than she could count, she knew that she had subconsciously believed him stunning that night. But there was so much more that made him such a man she had fallen for, his appearance was nothing compared to the beauty of what lied within.

Finally, she dared to look up into the ceruleans that made her bones melt – to examine the pinkened rims around the whites of his eyes. He didn't even bother to try to hide the stains that marked acid over his cheeks, highlighting the scar that ran to his lips. Unlike she would have expected, he didn't awkwardly turn away when their connection met. Instead, he penetrated his gaze into her while she carefully maneuvered into a seated position.

The intensity pulsated between them as doubt shined through her chocolate irises. She wasn't sure what to do: slap him, kiss him, or make him a sandwich. This wasn't awkward – nothing had ever been awkward between them. Gabriella was instead at a loss, unable to accept the fact that in a few moments, Troy could potentially inform her he was leaving to be in love with his best friend.

Finally, after minutes ticked away of muteness, Troy finally took a step forward, "Hi." He whispered, though there was no one else in the room to eavesdrop.

"Hi." Gabriella parroted his intimacy.

He didn't wait for her to extend the invitation to sit down. Gabriella watched his every flicker of his face to prepare her for the inevitable confession that he was just as in love with the lawyer as she was with him. It made sense – they had had the building sexual tension and chemistry while he was pained by Emily's loss. Their emotional connection was elite as well, or so she had told herself in the hours that he had been away. The dozens of movies and books that pointed towards best-friends-turned-lovers did not help the situation either. Gabriella was just waiting for the inevitable break.

"How'd- how'd it go?" Gabriella choked out, her fingers twittering in her lap.

Troy let out a breath that sounded like a sarcastic laughter, "It was unexpected," he raised his eyebrows in disbelief, "but I was too stupid to think that whatever we did wouldn't have consequences."

She nodded stiffly, dropping her gaze to her hands, "How is she?"

There was a hesitation that carried pain with it. Gabriella immediately noticed, making her head whip up to meet his eyes once again, "Broken," he replied, not bothering to hide his glistening tears, "just like I am."

"I'm sure this is hard for you," she counseled, trying to prove she would be mature about this situation.

He finally looked down at nodded, "It hurts like hell, Gab. But if it means she'll finally be happy without me, I can't stop her."

Gabriella's blood ran cold. The information he was suggesting on the complete opposite end of the spectrum that she had assumed would occur. There was guilt that bubbled beneath her skin and spread over the surface of her body. No matter how she despised the lawyer and her statement about wishing her out of his life, she would _never _hope that this would occur. She had grown to accept that there was no Troy without an Alicia – there was no Alicia without a Troy.

"This is all my fault." Gabriella whispered, feeling a burn in her abdomen that ached with blame, "If I hadn't meddled…"

"It was going to come out sooner or later, Gabriella." Troy assured, "She couldn't stand me not reciprocating. She hated being second in my life."

"She's not second, she _won't _be." Gabriella perked up and looked towards a telephone, slightly hysterical, "If I could just…"

"Gabriella. It's done. There's nothing I can do and this doesn't involve you." His voice betrayed him as he spoke, it wobbled with despair, "This isn't about me and Alicia anymore. Gabriella, this is about you and me."

She quirked a black eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

She watched, in the bright light that beamed upon his golden skin, as he leaned backwards and took a deep breath to steady himself. Although her nerves were already over stimulated by the fear of him leaving her, she felt a rush a panic sweep through her veins. The way he looked at her was overpowering, as though he was memorizing the pores, bridges, and curves upon her face. Like he would need to recall them in lonelier times.

His face was an unchanged rock when he spoke the words, "Gabriella, you got hired at The Los Angeles Times."

As soon as he said it, Gabriella suddenly remembered her stupid mistake of letting it slip to Alicia that she had been offered the position without an explanation. Her first reaction was to curse the ground that Alicia walked on – how dare she interfere with their relationship and attempt to sabotage. But then the rational side of her kicked the anger out of her system. In no time did Gabriella warn her that Troy had no knowledge of this opportunity, therefore it was an innocent slip. It didn't, however, make the gravity of the situation any less.

Her silence provided confirmation. To fill the void, Troy ran a hand through his brown bangs and looked up at her, gold skin glowing with desperation, "Why didn't you tell me?" He inquired hoarsely.

"Because I knew what you would say." She responded honestly, and regretfully.

"You're going." He confirmed her decision by the unmovable boulder of his voice, "Of course you're taking it."

"This isn't your choice, Troy. It's mine." Gabriella felt her will becoming stronger as she sat more erect.

"Well it's a shitty choice that's blinded by your emotions." Troy snapped back just as sharply. His eyes were narrowed but he wasn't angry, not like the rising irritation that bubbled within Gabriella's stomach. She doubled back so a good two feet divided them, "You're not letting this opportunity slip away, not on my watch."

"I'm not going to pack up and leave. I'm happy here."

Troy shook his head violently, "No. Gabriella, you're going. I'm not going to sit around and watch you throw your life away for something worthless. Not like I did."

This suddenly provided the ignition to Gabriella's atomic bomb. She leapt to her feet and felt the thunder of the ground rumble in her wake. The surface of her skin felt as though it were scalding. So enraged, she had never bothered to think of how bizarre it was that Troy so simply mentioned his past, she was too far into aggression. But Troy remained seated, staring up at her through her thick lashes while her lips curled with pure disgust. Maybe her rollercoaster of emotions that day that were the cause of her this hysteria or maybe she just desperately wanted to grasp some sort of control. Whatever it was, it made her jab her finger towards his chest.

"Worthless? _Worthless _Troy? How the hell can you say the love of your life was _worthless_?" She was shouting by now, rattling the black windows of the New York City skyline.

"Because if I hadn't been so stupid, like you're being right now, my life wouldn't have been in a shit hole for almost six years." Troy glared up at her, eyes hot and piercing, "You will not make the same mistake I did."

"Mistake? How was fucking taking care of the woman carrying your child a _mistake_?" Gabriella screamed. Tiny fingers balled into fists, she trembled when the long, haunting shadows masked the beautiful features of his face. He suddenly became unrecognizable – a stranger with her boyfriend's blue eyes. But they weren't the same; they were darkened with hatred. The quick change in demeanor suddenly made Gabriella's skin crawl, though she never backed down.

Her Troy was sweet, gentle, and caring. Her Troy would never consider a fetus a mistake – no matter if his basketball career was scarified or not. He would have remained loyal to Emily's side, until her very last breath.

This was not her Troy.

"Because leaving that team was a mistake." He growled, not showing surprise that they were so easily referencing what he had fought to keep a secret for so long. The rules had rapidly changed.

"How can you say that?" Gabriella hissed, her spiraling curls flailing with the pace of her frantic hands, "Emily carried your _child_, Troy."

Troy's eyes closed and she inhaled a vibrating breath, preparing himself for her onslaught. Gabriella's chest, on the other hand, was furiously huffing and puffing, waiting for him to pathetically defend himself again, "Gabriella, it…"

"I thought I knew you, Troy Bolton. I thought you were fucking better than blaming her."

His mouth, which was glued in a straight line, twitched, "Gabriella…."

"No wonder you want me to go, you just want to get rid of me, don't you? Just like her?"

"Would you shut up for five seconds so I can explain?"

Gabriella sneered, "Explain what, Troy?" she demanded, trembling from her fingers to her toes, "Why do you need to tell me how much of an asshole you are for thinking fame was more important than your kid? That ESPN deserved you more than your _child's _love? Why do you need to tell me? Huh?"

"Because…" Troy hissed dangerously.

Gabriella leaned forward and released every inch of passion and protection she could possibly muster, "Because _why_?"

"Because it wasn't mine."


	34. Minute Thirty Four

**A/N: There is a reason this story is rated M and it isn't because of smut. My only request is that you remember to approach this story with maturity, because this chapter is insanely heavy - as it is intended.

* * *

**

For the second time that day, the world sped to a halt. The foundation of the ground beneath her feet drastically shifted. Simple truths were suddenly altered – the sky was no longer blue, trees no longer sprouted leaves, Bert had never met Ernie. Black had turned white, fact turned to fiction. Lions flapped their wings and birds burrowed holes beneath the depths of the ocean floor. Gravity no longer held her to the earth; he did, with his penetrating gaze. New York City was suddenly not big enough, let alone the crammed apartment for her to breathe. Some sickened creature had punctured her lungs and let the air deflate like a forgotten hot air balloon. Everything she had ever believed in was now a question in the universe, a hypothesis instead of proven truth.

Gabriella couldn't breathe the dense air that circulated, couldn't see the bright lights that shined onto his bronzed face from above, and couldn't feel the race of her heart; she impossibly managed to croak, "_What?_"

She had no idea how to react to the words that had just pierced through the fiery wall of her heart. Somewhere within, she was still fuming from the argument that had bounced between them ever since he admitted his discovery of her job opportunity in Los Angeles. But the majority of her was floored, dumbstruck. Ever since that first basketball game, the night of their union, she had believed that Troy impregnated his girlfriend; therefore, it was crucial for him to leave the UCLA basketball team and cast away his future. But now, she stared into the stone grind of his jaw line, knowing that this was no sick joke to throw her off track. His eyes were too darkened in a navy storm and his muscles were clenched too tightly beneath his long sleeved shirt for his statement to be false, a decoy.

"The baby – it wasn't mine." Troy breathed slowly, evenly through his thin lips that were unusually pale, a reflection of the rest of his skin.

She didn't know how she managed to speak with her throat about as dry as the Sahara during rainless periods, "No, it makes sense. It had to be yours." Gabriella tried to calm herself rather than Troy, to grasp on reality instead of the world that was quickly spinning into chaos.

"Gabriella. It. Was. Not. Mine." Troy spit through his teeth, with a vengeance this time around.

"No. You left the team for her. Troy, you were set for the NBA. And you left unexpectedly… personal reasons," her reasoning was beginning to sound like verbal diarrhea as she searched the depths of her mind to produce evidence to contradict his denial, "The crash… it happened after you resigned. She was pregnant when she died!"

Had Troy been surprised that Gabriella had uncovered this much about his past, he made no motion to mention it. Instead, he remained seated, watching her pace ridiculously back and forth above, "Yes, she was."

"Then don't tell me it wasn't yours!"

Finally, after months of obsession and discovery, Troy ran a hand through his spiky hair and sighed, "Sit down, Gabriella. I'm going to tell you everything."

Everything.

With no other option, Gabriella collapsed into the beige fabric of the couch, directly in his line of vision. By this point, she was beyond simply trembling; any moment Troy would have to call the hospital and report a seizure. This would be extremely irritating – seconds away from discovering the entirety of Troy Bolton's past and she would pass out. It took a miracle to keep from her journalistic brain to pulsate into an overload of stimulation. Her desires and wishes since he first informed her of his past on the balcony of Sharpay's loft were finally coming true. What she had wanted all along as the wind had twirled around her dress and over the surface of his black button up. How the times had changed, how she had learned so much about him in those months.

And how much she had gotten wrong.

"Troy… I…"

"I met Emily my freshman year at UCLA. It was an accident, really. I had just scored the winning basket and was ready to get drunk with my friends when I crashed into her." Troy interrupted. Gabriella jumped – the sound of Emily's name spoken by his voice didn't sound as she would have expected. When he purred her name, it was rich with life and adoration, as though the angels had painted the nine letters for someone divine. But at Emily's name – a snarl followed and a flicker of his black eyes, interchangeable with Satin himself. It sent a shiver down her spine.

"She wasn't my usual type, back then. I was more into girls who would give me head without asking to be taken out the next night," Troy continued almost embarrassingly, never once looking away from her, "but after I picked her up from the floor, we sat in front of the main water fountain until four in the morning, just talking. We just… clicked, you know? I had never felt that way about anyone before.

"We did everything together, when I was around. I had never met anyone like her." there was no emotion when he looked down at his jeans, curling so perfectly around his thighs, as though he was remembering the tiny details, "For the first time in my life, I had fallen in love."

"She was blonde." Gabriella commented softly, though it had no real meaning to the story.

He nodded, "Yeah. She was going to be a first grade teacher since she loved kids," a solemn smile crossed his lips, one that didn't quite belong, "She was almost perfect. Always up until two or three in the morning when she had class the next day to be sure that I actually studied on the nights I came home from the road. We'd go out for ice cream every time I was back. I felt… happy, I guess. It was different than what I was used to, but I good kind of different. One that made the nights in the hotel rooms unbearable. But I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Gabriella, due to her journalistic nature, quirked an eyebrow, "You said almost."

There was a curl of his lips – he knew she wouldn't have missed this detail – that made her pulse race again, "I said almost."

"Why?" Gabriella asked dryly.

It was almost as though she didn't speak, he made no reference to her question when he picked back up again, "The end of the year was coming. I had only had a month when I didn't have official practices, in April. Emily and I were inseparable. I honestly think the only time I wasn't with her I was with –with Alicia," he breathed his best friend's name out as though it were sin. Gabriella watched as his eyes glossed over in momentary weakness. The girlfriend within fought to leap to him and throw her arms around his neck in comfort, but the detective told her to get a hold on herself. Thankfully, she had more will power than she had believed and remained seated while Troy wiped the rain sprinkling down his face, "I think the only reason I passed those exams was because of them." He chuckled sadly.

"Troy-" Gabriella reached out to gingerly brush her fingertips against his forearm. The bronzed skin beneath her touch felt too thin, too exposed. He maneuvered his arm away – Troy had never been one for sympathy.

He cleared his throat, "Coming back to Albuquerque sucked," he confessed, pitching the edge of his nose to keep from sniffling, "Alicia was in back in San Francisco and Emily was in Austin."

Gabriella's head snapped up, remembering that Alicia was brought up in the same city -Sacramento- that she was. Had they run into each other at the grocery store, before she moved away, as children? Had they played at the same park? Did they know that she would shun away her best friend because of Gabriella, if they sat in the same movie theater together?

"Of course I was practically flying back and forth from LA to Albuquerque every other weekend to practice with the guys, so it kept me busy not to think about her too much after one visit to my house in the beginning of the summer. Hanging with the guys in LA was like a dream, sleeping in the dorms and just playing for forty-eight hours straight. Once in awhile, we'd get recruiters from the NBA sitting in and watching us practice. Fuck, it got me on edge," there was a crystal glitter in his eyes when he spoke of his favorite sport, one that Gabriella recognized but had a hint of regret pooling around the circumference, "I had been the shit in high school, but NBA had never crossed my mind. I was an idiot who thought through his ass, but I wasn't stupid enough to think I was that good."

Gabriella bit her lip, "But you were, Troy. The press loved you, they were sure you were going to get drafted."

Troy let out a flat laugh, "You guys didn't start writing about me until the first week of the season." Gabriella understood that his comment of "you guys" meant the reporters that began to give him attention, "But it was in August that the NBA suddenly didn't become some fucked up dream. I remember it was hot, so fucking hot in that gym that we had to take water breaks every twenty minutes just to be sure that we didn't pass out.

"I saw him sitting on the bench after the scrimmage. He was taller than I had seen on TV and had more white hair. But he had this smile on his face when he looked at me, like the way my dad did when I scored my first basket in second grade. Coach called me over and introduced me to Pat –"

"Patrick O'Neil? The manager of the Miami Heat?" Gabriella's black eyebrows were arched to the tip of her hairline – uncovering Troy's past had forced her to become familiar with the names that flew around like the precious basketballs.

"He told me he was gonna keep his eye on me for the season, and we'd talk later about me leaving UCLA early," Troy shook his head as though still in disbelief, "Someone from the fucking NBA wanted me on _their _team, and I hadn't even started sophomore year yet."

Though it was incredibly interesting to hear him speak it instead of reading it from a computer screen, Gabriella found herself restraining from ordering him to stop stalling. She knew already that the professional basketball teams had been eager to recruit him towards the end of the season, just before he announced that he would not be returning to the team the next year. Plus, this particular topic seemed to leave him unsettled. Gabriella noted the way his brow furrowed with bitterness and the way he spoke as though this was a life that hadn't been his.

"What does this have to do with Emily?" Gabriella inquired, not intending to be rude.

Troy shot her a dark look, one that was unexpected and vile, informing her not to interrupt again, or there would be fatal consequences.

"It has _everything _to do with Emily." His hiss didn't sound human – it was straight from a horror movie.

"There was no way in hell I was going to stay in a dorm sophomore year, so me and three buddies moved into an apartment. Rent was cheap, and I didn't have to worry about someone seeing my dick after I came out of the shower. Alicia and Emily did the same. Class was getting easier, since the summer had sort of killed my 'get fucked up' goal in life. I had a purpose. I needed to be on my A game when the season came around." Troy took a deep breath and looked over her shoulder, looking into his past, "And I was. I had the girl of my dreams on my arm and millions in my future playing ball. I was flying high, and everything was almost perfect."

Gabriella hesitated, but gnawed on her lower lip once again, "You said almost again." She repeated.

Instead of ignoring her, Troy rubbed his forehead as though weary, "I loved Emily more than anything. It was a love I wanted her to prove to me."

"What do you mean?" Gabriella asked, perplexed.

"I was nineteen, Gabriella. I was fucking horny and she was a virgin."

Gabriella blinked, "Oh."

She had to give credit to Emily. Lucille had revealed that she was a Christian child; she adored her family and on paper, was perfectly pure. But even now, while they were in the most intense conversation they had ever involved themselves in since they had known each other; there was a sexual appeal that waved off of him. The danger of his passion as he spoke was overwhelming; it would have been difficult to deny him and herself such a pleasure.

"I was okay with it," he eyed her warily, watching her every movements, making sure that she didn't make wrong assumptions, "I mean, obviously I got annoyed, but I never, _ever _pushed her into doing anything she didn't want to."

Despite everything that had transpired since he first walked through the doors, Gabriella tenitively reached out to rest her hand upon his. He tensed beneath her; the smooth veins in his arms became much more defined, "I know, Troy. It's okay." She counteracted the accusations she made previously with a wiry smile.

He gave her a squeeze – one that was much too tight and desperate.

Immediately, she retracted her hand when his eyes fixated on her face, "Apparently she didn't think so."

Gabriella frowned, "What?"

Troy sighed, the light caught the golden flecks in his cut hair, "This talent had to come at a price, Gab. The more I fell in love with basketball, the more I fell _out _of love with Emily."

Perplexed, Gabriella crossed her arms, covered by her red top, "I thought you said you were in more in love with her than ever?"

"I was," he took a deep breath, "Until the season started. Coach was really into bonding then, he wanted us to be brothers, not just teammates. So we started going to parties again, not getting hammered, but just chilling. We had rap battles on plane rides and rated girls from other schools. When I used to spend hours hiding in my hotel room calling Emily freshman year, I was out with the guys instead. I didn't think about her, and when I saw how my friends were hitting on other girls, I was getting annoyed that I do anything back. I probably saw Emily once a week when Christmas rolled around, and even that seemed like a burden."

"Was she oblivious to this?" She asked.

Troy snored, "She damn well knew I wasn't happy. I was hanging out with Alicia more. Being around other girls again made me realize that Emily was too fucking perfect. She didn't fight with me, she didn't drink, and she loved all woodland animals." He added sarcastically – had it been a less straining time, Gabriella would have laughed, "It was getting annoying."

He closed his eyes, but continued his tale, "We started arguing every time we were together. But she suddenly became extremely clingy and possessive. It was totally unlike her. Emily had always been calm and down to earth, since I was her first real boyfriend. But she was just….the more she pulled me closer, the more I pushed away. And it killed her to watch." His lids squeezed tighter, fanning the lines away from the corners of his eyes.

Gabriella chewed on the inside of her cheek as she watched him relive his life behind his lengthy lashes. Balls flickering every so often, she imagined he was recreating his past, potentially for the first time since the events unfolded.

"I was in North Carolina for the weekend when she called me. I let it go to the voicemail the first time, but an hour later I finally answered. She sounded, excited, but not the kind of excited like you get when your published or I bring you fast food shit," Gabriella felt a flush of her cheeks, knowing that he wasn't so lost into his past that he still remembered she was there, "It was like… hysterical. Like she was high or something, but she wouldn't touch a joint with a nine foot pole, so I was freaked out that something had happened. Even if I didn't like her anymore, I still cared about her.

"The guys were hosting a party that weekend, to celebrate us winning. I had Emily come with me, but I invited Alicia and her boyfriend, at the time, to come with cuz I couldn't stand the thought of being with her alone," blue with penetration, his eyes flashed open with rage, "I don't know how she did it, but she got me drunk, and she was too. It was the first night she really drank…and the first time I had sex with her."

He momentarily ducked away from her, ashamed of himself, "Things got a little better for a few weeks, since I could actually touch her without her flipping shit, until they just got… weird."

She watched as his chest, sculpted with perfection and precision, heaved in a slow rhythm. There was a shift in his demeanor – the golden light that beamed upon him suddenly shimmied into a long shadow drawing on half of his face. This caused his left iris to darken; a midnight hurricane began to penetrate into her. Gabriella wiggled backwards, fearful that he was going to transform into the unknown.

"All she ever wanted to do then was fuck. At first it was great, since I thought it was what I wanted," she felt a flush of her skin in the places that he had touched more times that she ever imagined: her neck, her cheeks, her breasts, between her legs. The flesh burned of him, burned of the remembrance of the love he relished upon her, "But having sex with her was supposed to be proving how much loved her, but every time it felt more and more like a lie. I wasn't in love with her anymore, but she kept being persistent, kept screwing to hold onto whatever we had left. I was trapped. Every time I tried to tell her to stop or that we needed to talk, she'd get this look in her eye that made me scared of what she would do if I didn't give her what she wanted. It was so fucked up. She used to drive by my apartment just to see if I was home and not with some other girl. I didn't feel like she was my girlfriend anymore… I felt like she was my stalker."

It suddenly made perfect sense. The reason Troy had had sexual relations with Alicia after Emily had died was because he was trying to mimic what had happened to her – he wanted to numb the pain by using to sexual pleasure, the way his love for Emily diminished with every thrust into her. Of course, it wasn't purposefully, Troy would never use Alicia that way, but as the only connection to his past – Alicia represented the last bit of Emily that remained. It was the one he wanted to destroy, and the overexposure had worked with his dead fiancée, it would have certainly worked with his best friend, or so he thought.

It also explained why he had been so reluctant to sleep with Gabriella so soon after they had realized their feelings for each other. He hadn't wanted things to turn out the same.

"It was making me exhausted, all the fucking time. Alicia let me hide in her room whenever she could, but it wasn't enough. I know she's a bitch, but without her I don't know what I would have done. Emotionally, I was lucky that I had basketball or I would have slit my wrists," It was supposed to be a joke, but Gabriella shivered into her crossed arms at the thought, "Apparently I was good at keeping secrets, though. No one on the team noticed and I was getting all these calls from hot shot NBA teams. I was suddenly swimming in so much press and recruiters and shit. But I knew where I wanted to go… I had to play for the guy who had had faith in me all along. I felt like I finally had a way out."

"Pat. The Heat." Gabriella whispered.

"Coach and I kept it quiet, but the plan was that I was gonna sign the papers after March Madness."

Stomach dropping, Gabriella swallowed thickly, "Was going to." She stated instead of asked.

His jaw ground tightly as though something vile lingered upon his tongue, "I told Emily the night before I left for the tournament. Maybe it was my warning that when I came back in a month, we would be done. Or maybe I was just fucking stupid enough to believe she'd be happy for me."

"Troy…"

"I should have known she was psychotic enough to fuck me over."

Gabriella recoiled from him at the way venom dripped from his mouth. There was something different now, by the way his eyes were two pits of hell and his skin was white as Emily's ghost. It was not quite sadness, rage or frustration. It was lethal and vile and, for the first time since they met, Gabriella was suddenly terrified of him.

"I was going to break up with her when we lost in the final four," Troy shook his head again, disgusted, "And then she told me she was seven weeks pregnant. It was right before I left for the tourney, or so she said."

He let that linger, hang in the air and coil around her until it suffocated. Gabriella gasped, well aware of the twist in the story, but it still caught her by surprised. Breathing became difficult once again; it felt as though she was inhaling cyanide instead of oxygen.

Troy watched her horror closely, but didn't let it affect him when he commenced in a growl, "It didn't make sense. I refused to sleep with her unless we used condoms. But my life was spinning out of control. Everything I had worked for, everything that made me _happy _in life was gone. I couldn't be an NBA star and a dad at the same time." She realized he was trying to remain emotionless. But little twitches of his eyelids and wobbles of his voice were enough to tell her how he felt. She had to restrain herself from coiling an arm around him until the dams in his lashes breeched. However, she forced herself to sit idly, knowing he could be deadly.

"Alicia and Pat are the only ones who know. Alicia was hiding me from Emily when she went through her psychotic episodes, so she knew what was up. I had to tell Pat the truth, I couldn't lie and say that I didn't want to play anymore, he knew me better than that," he took a steadying breath, "He's the reason none of this hit the press. The entire time, he was paying people to keep their mouths shut, the police and firemen."

Gabriella realized where the story was heading and took a sharp breath in, her eyes immediately fixating on the scar exploding from his cheek.

"I – I don't remember much about that night," he suddenly started to quiver, making Gabriella's urge to hold him much more fierce, "We had to tell her parents, it was a month after she told me. So we picked up and headed to Austin after exams. I was so fucking pissed at her, but she didn't know it. She was too fucking happy. It was sick."

Long shivers rolled down her spin as he spoke, "It was raining. I remember thinking it'd be so much easier if the car slipped off the road or lightning struck her in the passenger seat. I wanted her dead. I wanted this shit to go away…" His voice trailed off, meaning only one thing.

He got his wish.

"The next thing I know, I'm waking up in the hospital three days later with a broken arm and my mom fighting with the doctors so she could see me. She wanted to tell me about Emily, said it wasn't their right. But they refused. They wanted to tell me she was six weeks pregnant."

Others wouldn't have noticed, others wouldn't have remembered. But, with her journalism profession to remember the tiniest details, her eyes widened in both horror and repulsion, "But you were… you were playing in the tournament then…"

"Exactly." Troy growled.

Everything slammed upon her, rattling the depths of her bones with its wake. Her consciousness was a surprise – she was waiting for the moment that the dizziness consumed her and she crumpled to the floor in shock.

Troy remained seated, deadly and dangerous, waiting for her reaction – the only sight in focus.

"When Alicia was cleaning out her apartment a week later, she found condoms in her nightstand sitting with a safety pin. Apparently, the holes she poked still couldn't get her pregnant, so she fucked someone else and just told me it was mine so I wouldn't leave her." His fists balled, ready for revenge, "She stole my life from me."

The pain, the fury, and the defeat suddenly slipped away with the simple slump of his shoulders. Suddenly, Troy appeared ten years older, with his blue eyes quickly softening to the ocean at sunset and a trembling breath. It was clear, by the exhaustion that wrapped around his now limp arms and jaw that the tale had come to a close. He looked fatigued,, loose, fallen – vulnerable. The demons that had rested upon his shoulder faded into the golden light as he leaned forward, illuminating his face once again. Grooves scarred his hands from where his nails had dung into his palms. Turning away, Troy finally appeared timid, afraid of her reaction.

"Troy. " Gabriella's voice cut off, unsure of what to say given the magnitude of the situation.

He looked up at her again, eyes red and shining, and for the first time all evening, he appeared like himself once again. The man she had fallen for, matured and cool, but not cold.

The tears that had lingered in his eyes finally slipped down the mosaic of his face, breaking her heart with every stroke. She was caught off guard when he suddenly curled his hand around the back of her neck, lacing his fingers into the coils of her hair and brought her forehead to rest upon his. Gabriella felt sparks ripple through her nerves and explode into her heart, never feeling so close to anyone else as she did at that moment. Every cell within her body arched for him, yearned for his touch. She wanted to give him the love he deserved, to wrap him in her arms and hold him until her heart stopped beating. Like a magnet, her hands looped beneath the swell of his biceps and gripped him with such a passion and devotion that the universe suddenly didn't revolve around the sun – it circled around him.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, which rippled all the way down to her toes and left a trail of wildfire in its wake, "That's why you have to go." He whispered, brushing against her earlobe with his lips.

"I can't," she cried, but matched his volume with his intimacy, "Troy, I can't."

Gabriella shook when her brought her head around and cupped her face with his large hands, staring deeply into the chocolate tone of her irises, "I can't let you stay. I can't let you do the same thing I did, I love you too damn much."

She saw truth in his eyes - glittering with pure devotion. But the hurt coursed through her, nonetheless. It was raw and excruciating, knowing the inevitability of this argument and where it would lead.

Pressing heartbeat to heartbeat, chest to chest, Gabriella felt the tears rush faster down her face, "If you do, then you wouldn't let me do this."

Digging her face into his neck, she inhaled one last musky scent of him, remembering. He then looked into her eyes, blazing with a sapphire inferno that nearly knocked her out, matching the intensity of his words, "Love is when you can't survive without someone else, but would rather die than live a day knowing you've held them back. I won't do it, Gabi. Not to you."

"I'm so sorry." She whispered, squeezing his waist tightly. Closing her eyes, she felt his grip tighten around her, memorizing the curves and the bumps of her body for safe keeping.

"Me too."

Holding each other, their tears fell in synchronization and splashed together as one.

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**A/N : All I can say is thank you. Thank you for: reading, your reviews, trusting me, not giving up, making me smile. I'm touched beyond all belief, thank you. But now I'm beyond nervous for how you will take this chapter. Just… thank you. I hope I did this justice.**


	35. Minute Thirty Five

**A/N: I apologize for the initial chapter confusion... I mixed up posting chapters. I blame Zac's epic promo and his gushes about Vanessa for clogging my brain with sweet nothings.  
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**I know a lot of you are not going to like this chapter and you won't understand the significance of it, but respect it was one of the hardest for me to write - even if it was meant to be one of the shortest. Thanks for reading as always. You guys are amazing.**

**The song for this is "Settle For a Slowdown".**

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There was a single child, with ruffled hair that stuck out everywhere and his eyes darkened to the shimmer of the sun at twilight. He was short, innocent, untouched as he weaved through the legs of the travelers in his outdated overalls and smile too large for his face. His feet shuffled, unevenly, and stumbled over the floppy tips of his shoelaces. The boy giggled, loosing himself into the cruelties of the New Yorkers around. He was lost, oblivious in his bubble with scampers from linoleum tile to linoleum tile. Unaware of the crooks, killers, and heartbreakers that surrounded him with a stalking glare, he plowed forwards, with no destination or purpose in mind. He aimlessly traveled, until the safety of his mother's arms snatched him from the threats that slithered around. Snuggling into her neck, the child was once again protected, sheltered, loved.

"Gabriella? Sweetie? You're shaking."

Gabriella, sitting upon a white chair that was rattling, blinked. Her gaze tore away from the child's embrace with his mother and looked up at the man sitting beside her. For a brief moment that she willed to last forever, she completely forgot the reasoning for her people watching at the table that loomed beneath a green and white sign. Instead, she had just simply been sitting and observing life rush past her. But then, like a bad dream, it unexpectedly slammed upon her- the pained pulsation squeezing the walls of her stomach. It was then that she realized the shake of metal beneath her was due to the trembles that were rippling through her gray sweats.

"Oh." She said simply while placing her hands beneath her bottom on the black seat to attempt to control herself and glanced over his shoulder for the seventeenth time, "Sorry."

She tilted her head curiously, memorizing the divots of his face as he scrunched his dark brow over to look at her, "Just relax, alright? You're gonna look like a spaz to the person you sit next to."

Gabriella swallowed, trying not to think of the benefits of being kicked off the plane that was due to leave within the hour.

Sure, when she had left for New York last summer, she had been nervous for the unknown life she was about to live. But this time, in the short days that she had been given to pick up her stuff and fly to Los Angeles, Gabriella wasn't nervous, not really. Months ago, fantasies of the lives she could potentially live crowded her mind when she watched the travelers in Boston hurry down the terminals to be sure they were in their assigned seats before the clock stroked take off. But in the food court that day, Gabriella felt an overwhelming feeling of dread. Time was ticking away much too quickly – she wanted these moments to last forever.

"Is Frank mad your skipping?" Gabriella asked and pulled up her the sleeves of her beige jacket, keeping her head from drifting towards thoughts that would cause a public break down – all images leading to a pair of sparkling blue eyes. Again, she peered over the top of his floppy mop, towards the escaladers leading to the entrance, and felt the hole in her chest gape even deeper, slicing her organs.

Jason, who was seated across from her with a feigned smile and pain in his eyes, shrugged, "Nah… but he's bitching about you leaving us. I always knew deep down he was a softy when it came to you. Even made Rebecca go get coffee."

A twisted grin coursed through her face, trying to be brave, "Payback's a bitch." She hiccupped as she played with the straps of her bag.

"He's gonna join the 'I'll miss Gabriella Montez' fanclub. Did I tell you we're making t-shirts?"

Her eyes burned at the joke, "Make sure they're blue."

They awkwardly looked for an outlet to stare at besides the other: the cheap fast food restaurants, the passengers who were arguing with one another whether or not their sun block was the appropriate size for the aircraft, the ugly neutral colors painted on the walls. It was obvious they were stalling – Gabriella's flight didn't leave for another forty-five minutes and she had yet to pass through the security system, and then head down her terminal. She couldn't deny that she was starting to get antsy, but not enough to make her move from her spot.

"I think they moved the fucking bathrooms since I was here last." A gruff voice interrupted the uncomfortable tension between ex co-workers. Gabriella looked up from the table to see the bounce of Chad's afro halt when he stopped before them. Rolling her eyes, Taylor suddenly appeared at his side with a frown pulling the edges of her mouth towards the ground. Both had the same, empty appearance on their faces that Jason held.

"Maybe if you wouldn't have devoured that chili dog an hour ago." Taylor scolded and shook her head with pure annoyance. Gabriella recognized her edge – it was a defense mechanism.

Much like her own denial.

"We can't take you anywhere, can we?" Gabriella teased; feeling the wiggle of whatever was infesting her stomach. Her grip on her phone tightened, staining her fingers white, and remained excruciatingly silent.

"Guess not."

She was thankful her three friends had skipped their appropriate jobs to drive her to the airport, although the final departure could potentially be much more painful. Jeremy hadn't given her much time to pack up her life after she called him five days previously to inform him she would be accepting the offer. Whether he knew she would take it or had prayed hopefully, Jeremy excitedly informed her that he had found an apartment for her that had a reasonable rent and was located in a safe and friendly part of the city. Gabriella had been skeptical, not seeing it in person, but after receiving pictures and videos of the warm colors and bright sunshine, she grudgingly fell in love with it. So she took it.

There was a silence that rattled her bones, "Gabriella?" Taylor's tone wobbled as she turned to her longtime friend with glossy eyes, "Are you sure you'll be okay on the plane?"

Gabriella nodded, stiffly, "It's only a six hour flight, Tay. I brought two books along." She instinctively reached for the leather purse that contained the traveling essential – literature to read, an iPod to listen to, and gum to chew.

"I sleep whenever I'm on a plane." Jason candidly announced. His pathetic attempt to capture her attention was ignored, for she cranked her head around him again, searching desperately.

"Gabs…. Gabs!"

Loose curls flapping, Gabriella whipped her head around in surprise as she turned to see Chad giving her an accusatory expression. She blushed, feeling like a little girl with her hand caught in the cookie jar. However, no matter how hard she fought her natural reactions, the tremble of her bottom lip was enough to provide him the evidence of what she was attempting to accomplish. The blackness of his beady eyes was enough for her to understand, and it made her entire body convulse. With a sharp jolt of his neck, Chad mutely ordered her to quit her task and focus on the present. Hope slowly oozed from her pores with each tick of the clock glaring upon them, mocking. The hourglass of her dreams drained sand rapidly – each second snatched her current life and shoved her towards the unwanted.

Solemnly, Taylor mechanically stared at her watch before barely whispering, "Gabriella."

Gabriella stomach, which exposed her olive skin every slightly with the white cami that rode up her skin, tumbled to the floor. Her flesh burned when she looked up at her friends, puffing her chest in desperation, "M-my flight doesn't leave for another th-thirty minutes." She stuttered.

"You need to get to your terminal. They're probably boarding right now." Taylor said responsibly – her face, however, betrayed her calm mood.

"No, just a few more minutes… please."

Squeezing her cell phone to will it to light up, she frantically scanned the throngs of people. Redheads, brown-eyed, spotted with freckles – all of these were caught in sight, but not the traits she _needed_. There were no bulging biceps that curled around her every night and rocked her until dawn. The silky, short hair that felt feathery when her fingers flew through it was not present. And those eyes – the drowning blue eyes that exploded with life when he met her stare- they were absent, a ghost of her life. The life she would have sold her soul to keep.

A hand fell on her shoulder, gently pumping to catch her attention. Gabriella looked up, her eyes scorching with blurry water droplets, "Gabriella. He's not coming." Chad's voice was such a contrast to his normally joking demeanor. The finality of the words jabbed through her ribs, breaking her heart.

Gabriella shook her head, feeling her face scrunch to fight the sobs. He had to come -he couldn't have expected her to leave after professing his past to her. Her fantasies consisted of the viewing of the final Friends episode one too many times. She was waiting for him to burst through the gates, just like Ross, to beg her not to step onto the plane. Or, something less dramatic, he could call her and plead that she wait ten more minutes so he could get out of the New York traffic and ravish her. Her blood ran cold as her eyes darted across Chad's face, waiting for a smile to crack and tell her this was all a joke – he was simply hiding behind the fichus and they could all just go home to a hardy meal of frozen dinners and wine.

But he was not there. Nor could she expect him to be.

She knew if he had come to say goodbye, he wouldn't have been able to let her go.

"He um…" Chad choked and pulled something from his back pocket she hadn't noticed he had before, "He made me promise I'd give this to you…just before you left…"

It was a thin box, much longer than its thickness. The covering was wrapped with velvet, clearly purchased from a jeweler. Gabriella's eyes, which were now threatening to breech their dams, widened with shock. She reached toward it, snatching her hand back in case it might bite her. Taylor's hand covered her mouth and Jason gave her a small, encouraging nod. Sucking in a breath, Gabriella enclosed her fingers around it. The burn of where his touch last laid scalded her skin. Immediately, she clutched it to her chest and slammed her eyes to a close, forcing his presence into her memory before she dropped it into her bag.

"I'm gonna miss you, Gabs," Chad enveloped her into his arms, holding her tightly to his chest. Gabriella matched his intensity, feeling the world crash before her as she remained helpless. It seemed like days ago that he was forcing her to the welcome party that had changed the essence of who she was, "We all are."

Her pulse quickened when she realized who "we" was.

Gabriella swallowed back her cries when she released him and turned towards Taylor, the girl who had remained loyal to her since she was a teenager. Tears stained her dark mascara and dripped down her cheeks. Her black bob swung as she through her arms around Gabriella, rocking her back and forth, "This feels like graduation again." She laughed bitterly.

Gabriella nodded into her neck, "Only worse."

"Call me the second you land, alright?" Taylor wiped away the raccoon eyes and gave her a wobbly smile.

"I promise I will."

The world suddenly became much crueler as she turned towards the final member of her parting group. Jason was now standing, his hands in his pockets and his face paler than she remembered. With dull, mud eyes, he met her stare and struggled to position his jaw in the right angle to smile. It failed and, had this moment been in happier times, she would have poked fun at the suicidal-clown expression. His weight shifted between his feet as he looked at her, before whispering, "Who's gonna bring me pudding now?"

With that, Gabriella flung herself into his arms, "Oh Jase…."

He clung to her intimately, gripping desperately at her lower back. It wasn't quite brotherly, yet it wasn't quite romantically either. It was a middle ground of emotion that flooded through her flesh and meshed with his, rubbing dangerously against each other. She didn't bother to try to be a big girl when he snuggled his face into her tendrils – the waterfalls of her tears began to rush down her cheeks. She began to shake uncontrollably, not caring that the entire JFK airport was staring or pointing. By this point, no one else mattered.

Finally, he pulled her away and stared down at her with red eyes. Her lashes lifted, thick and aching of tears as she looked into the face of her best friend, "I don't want to go."

His thumb reached up and brushed away the scars that streamed down her face, "It- it's gonna be good for you."

Hysterically, Gabriella shook her head and grabbed a chunk of his now stained sweatshirt in her fists, "No…"

"You're going to fucking kick ass, Gabriella. You were made for this."

He tucked her beneath his chin and tenderly stroked her hair, "I'm gonna miss you so much." She sobbed into his chest.

Slowly, he pulled away from her again and looked down into her face, giving her a warm smile. "Love you." He whispered and pressed his lips against her forehead.

"Don't forget me."

Jason chuckled sadly, "I'm calling you every day. You'll get so pissed at me."

It hurt to let him go, but she knew she had to. The clock had finally reach zero, there was no more prolonging.

Pulling a strand of her hair behind her ear, she hiked her purse further on her shoulder and looked at the three, noticing a gap between Chad and Jason that could have filled one more person. One more crucial piece of her. Her chest began to heave, lingering her gaze on that spot as though he would suddenly appear out of thin air and sweep her off her feet. Maybe it would have been easier if he told her he didn't want her, instead of breaking her heart out of selflessness.

Glancing at the clock one last time, Gabriella wiped her tears, "Well… wish me luck."

"Nah," Jason swallowed and weakly winked, "You won't need it."

She stared at them one last time, memorizing what made them perfect, just before sending her last hope towards the escaladers.

He wasn't there.

Her body felt empty when she finally turned around and approached the large woman in a blue and black uniform before the city of machines and scanners. Gabriella was certain the stool was going to break beneath her. Her lip puffed out as she cocked her furry eyebrows at the tears that continued to linger in Gabriella's vision, "I need to see some identification." The guard droned in monotone, obviously dreaming about what she would be consuming for dinner rather than her job.

With shaking hands, Gabriella fished her driver's license out of her bag, thankful she would not need to use her passport since she wasn't leaving the country. After handing over her boarding pass and license, the woman – her nametag read Gertrude- circled the appropriate gate and didn't look at her when she groaned, "Have a nice flight."

She stepped towards the conveyer belt and waited behind a family of four who were taking an obnoxious amount of time to deposit their belongings into the gray bins. In the time that Gabriella removed her shoes and – grudgingly- turned off the power of her cell phone, the two grade school girls argued over who would receive the window seat. Gabriella did he absolute best not to scream at them for being so consumed with petty things when she was leaving everything that meant anything to her and being forced into a new world. Thankfully, the mother was embarrassed enough and ordered them to be quiet or they would be turning around and heading back to Brooklyn. The mention made Gabriella quiver even more.

After the family passed through, the blonde guard in a white shirt and rubber gloves held up his hands before she could step through the metal detector. He watched her face for a long moment – Gabriella assumed it was due to the puffiness and tears. When the time was right, the guard wiggled his fingers for her to cross the barrier. She struggled against every single instinct to turn around and race back to her love's apartment, telling him she refused to leave. It was difficult for her to take the first step towards the threshold, to her unwanted future.

"Keep smiling, Miss. Flying is the safest way to travel." He assured her.

Gabriella didn't answer. Instead, she stumbled towards the conveyer belt where her possessions idly lay. Her hands trembled and her bottom lip almost fell off due to the shakes. She was blind. Reality was beginning to strike upon her, like an angry ripple of lightning illuminating the night sky. She fumbled with the straps of her bag before tripping over her own feet and almost crashed to the ground. Her purse flew, the contents spilling on the barren tiles on the floor.

"Shit." She coughed, feeling both mortified and depressed that she was drawing even _more _attention to herself than she had been with her cries.

Dropping to her knees, Gabriella scrambled to collect all of her items and shove them vigorously into her bag once again. Others were staring as her meltdown continued; she could feel the burn of lasers into her back with each thrust. However, she didn't care. She had never cared.

Finally, Gabriella flung her eyeliner back to approximately the correct location and stood, struggling to maintain her balance. Her eyes lifted towards the shadows of the concourse – a rush of uncertainty flooded through her veins. As the radios muffled on the belts of the security guards, she had the bizarre sensation that she was leading to her judgment. Looking back was not an option; she had crossed and had to gather the strength to take that first step towards greatness, towards her future of press and a celebrity status. It was what she had always wanted –the recognition of her hard work. She deserved it.

Yet, Gabriella was numbed in her spot, wanting nothing more than to stay right where she was.

"Miss?"

The voice floated in her head a million miles away. It repeated, snapping her out of her trance and forced her to look upon the blonde guard with a hesitant expression on his face. His arm was extended towards her, holding a black box that seemed to glow within his grasp due to the white lighting from above.

"You dropped your bracelet." He informed her with a kind smile.

She should have dropped it into her bag, as her head told her to. The jewelry that Troy had purchased for her, which was bizarre and uncharacteristic in itself, would only make her long for him even more. But as her fingers closed around the object, the jolt of lightning surged through her once again. Whatever was left of her heart silenced her common sense. It was suicide, she realized when she examined the container with tear filled eyes, but she no longer had any control of her body. Whatever piece of her that was squeezing tightly to what was left of Troy would not be tamed. She wanted to, no _needed, _discover what was inside.

The moment she opened the cover, she regretted it. It wasn't a bracelet – it was so much more.

The tiny sliver of her heart that was still intact shattered when she took sight of the pink, Hello Kitty pen that rested snuggly in the velvet jewelry box – a token of good luck, and goodbye.


	36. Minute Thirty Six

**Disclaimer: I've never been in the building for The LA Times, but I took a virtual tour. If something is mistaken, please blame it on not being rich and famous and who can't throw down tickets to LA for fanfiction (no matter how much I want to stalk Zac Efron).**

**A/N: The song for this is "California Gurls", which is completely opposite of the serious tone this story has carried, but it seemed to fit for writing it. Thanks for reading!**

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"Okay, it would be so simple. Chad and Taylor could sleep on the couch. No need to waste money. Seriously, you and Sharpay can just take my bed and I'll sleep with a bunch of blankets." Gabriella swiveled around in her black computer chair with the sunlight shimmering through her black tresses and her pump dangling off the black paint of her toenail, "Problem solved."

"_Gabriella_," the gruff voice on the other side of the line made her smile stretch further upon her face, "_if you bring up the hotel one more time, I'm going to fucking rip my ticket to shreds. We're not staying in your apartment, so shut up about it. You're annoying me_."

She giggled and glanced up to take sight of the planted palm trees bordering along the sidewalk from below. The room was stuffy – thanks to the scalding summer heat that hung through the windows, even through the air-conditioned building. Her cotton cardigan was already stripped and dangled off the edge of her seat and threatened to fall every time she spun around her large cubicle. Yet, a bead of sweat continued to hug her black brow, especially where her newly styled bangs landed just above her caramel eye. She wedged the corded telephone beneath her shoulder and fanned herself with a scrap piece of paper, almost knocking the expensive keyboard in the process.

"I just think it's stupid." Gabriella responded, glancing at the collage of pictures that adored the creamy paint of the faux wall – one overly-eager brunette specifically, "I won't let you guys waste your money on a hotel when I have perfectly good space. It's your vacation."

"_Trust me, babe, you're gonna want your privacy_." He chuckled, Gabriella imagining the lines around his eyes webbing out with pure glee.

"Please," her hand waved in dismissal, almost smacking the sleek monitor that sat on the desk before her, "I've had privacy from you guys for three and a half months. I don't want you to leave me again." Biting her lip to be sure that the other reporters didn't notice her momentary weakness, Gabriella tried to ignore the desperation in her voice.

She let out a sigh, leaning back in her chair, and fumbled to be sure that she didn't drop the phone. Fourteen weeks had passed since she stumbled through JFK airport and onto her flight. The first week, of course, had been the absolute hardest. She had spent half of the flight settled on the toilet seat in the lavatory, balling her eyes raw, until the stewardess knocked on the door to make sure she didn't drown herself or fall out the back of the airplane. Jeremy had been waiting at the baggage claim when she arrived – she was internally grateful for him not mentioning her eyes were permanently stained red. Instead, he gathered the suitcase – the rest of her belongings had been shipped out two days prior- and personally drove her to her new apartment in the luxury of his shiny Mercedes. He had even stopped by after work the next day to make sure she was beginning to settle. In pure Gabriella fashion, she didn't empty out the boxes for three weeks and kept the infamous couch in the moving van until the company called to inform her if she didn't remove the furniture, they were donating it to Goodwill. Gabriella quickly ordered them to bring it up, empathizing with their strained backs as they did so.

Closing her eyes, she felt guilty for knowing how easy it had been for her to ease into the California scene once again. She spent about two weeks in the "fetch-my-coffee-bitch" stage, though she was fairly certain that Jeremy only did it to be sure that none of the other reporters talked poorly behind her back when she was new in town. Of course, due to the size and status of the paper, she wasn't writing actual articles in the actual print yet; instead Jeremy had given her the opportunity to write for the electronic version, which was just as good, in her opinion. She had befriended her neighbors – the floor she lived on wasn't quite as squeezed together as the one back in New York was, therefore she had more room to maneuver. Despite the busyness within the city, her little corner wasn't quite as hectic and intimidating. And she adored it, along with most other things in her new life.

"_The hotel is booked, Montez_." She could hear the smile in his voice, even a million miles away, "_deal with it_."

"I miss you, Jase. You need to come sooner." Gabriella confessed, coiling the fingers around the cord of the phone before unconsciously picking up the Hello Kitty pen that rested idly on her desk.

"_Awe, babe_," he cooed smugly, giving Gabriella the urge to hit something, "_I miss you too. But Barbie had some dress thing today, so we can't fly out until tomorrow morning. She's fucking psycho_."

Gabriella giggled, "Sharpay's got a bad case of Bridezilla?"

"_Try Bridezilla on steroids and a penis pump. I don't know how Baylor can stand it. Even Bolton went off at her last week when she wanted to use his basketball as a facial scrub or something_."

Gabriella's stomach flipped -the sound of his name slashed against her heart. She stuttered, glancing left to right, and hunched lower in her cubical to breathe in the imaginary scent of him that still lingered in her memory after all these months, "Sounds terrible." Gabriella mumbled.

Instinctively, Gabriella reached for the mouse and began to click away in a familiar pattern, momentarily forgetting her conversation with Jason on the telephone. She opened her inbox and pushed her middle finger down to spin the dial that reached the most recent email sent from the address she desired. Swallowing thickly, she quickly began to scan the bulky three paragraphs that composed of the email. Her heart staggered every couple sentences.

"_Gabriella? Hello? Earth to Gabriella?_ "

Gabriella blinked. Reality, once again, crashed upon her shoulders and she was reintroduced to her life in California instead of daydreaming about the past, "Sorry. I'm still here."

She had been offended when Troy's first email arrived in her mailbox a week after getting settled into her new living space. It had popped in the corner of her screen unexpectedly at the late hours of the night. Gabriella first hyperventilated after a week of mild depression in missing him so much. But it bothered her - had he not cared enough to just simply send an email, instead of calling her on the phone? She was angry, at first, until her eyes scanned the passion that threaded between the lines of the letter he attempted to be platonic in, and ultimately failed. It was then, when he pointed it out at the end of the email, that she realized his reasoning for choosing to write electronically instead of dialing her number wasn't because he didn't want to speak to her – he did it because writing was something that meant so much more to her. A phone call – apart from the occasional drunk dial either one partook in – would have not fit their relationship, for lack of a better word.

"Montez!" A voice called in California, causing her to jump in her chair and induce a chuckle from the curly-haired blonde who hovered over her cubical with lust twinkling in his eyes, "Jeremy wants you to grab your microphone and meet him by the van. Apparently, a gorilla's having babies at the zoo."

"Oh!" Gabriella leapt up, fumbling with the phone that almost crashed to the table, "Shit… you there? Jase?"

"_Relax, relax… duty calls. I'll just sit here and watch Frank pick wings out of his teeth._" Jason teased. The sound of his voice sounded right at home.

The blonde made no hesitation to attempt to stare at the swoop her cami provided on her chest. Disgusted and flustered, Gabriella immediately turned away and crossed her arms to keep the conversation private, "Listen, Jase just call me the second you get to JFK. And then when you take off. And then when you land. And then when you're in the cab… and then when you're at the apart…"

"_Go! You can't even get service on a fucking airplane anyways_." Jason reminded her with a chuckle, "_go be a hotshot reporter before I cancel the trip_."

"Promise you'll call me at the airport?" She hurried out, glancing over her shoulder to see her coworker was getting impatient.

"_Promise._"

With a smile on her face, Gabriella slammed the phone to the receiver and whirled around with a look of conquest sparkling in her eyes, "So, gorillas huh?"

"Jeremy's by the van." He reminded her, giving her a once over while she fished for her jacket behind her chair.

"Those babies aren't gonna write about themselves. Let's go."

* * *

Gabriella quickly learned that she was a very, _very _impatient person.

Stepping out of the bedroom and creaking the light maple wood that decorated over the door, Gabriella took a deep breath to inhale the overwhelming stench of Febreeze. Her eyes trailed over the recently vacuumed and white carpet and matching creamy walls. The spare change had been removed from between the cushions of the brown couch pushed up against the left wall. The wood on the tv stand and end tables, painted black, had been polished until shiny – along with the television itself. The red curtains billowed with a warm welcome from the air conditioning that protected the apartment from the scourching sunshine that spilled across the flood. The granite counters glinted. Had she curled her head in a certain angle, she would have been able to see the chrome sparkle beneath the mirror.

Yet, her fingers felt a twitch to clean – to make it perfect.

She had practically locked away all her supplies, knowing that the only reason she had a sudden urge to turn a new leaf and be organized was due to her nerves. Of course, there was no reason to be antsy or unsettled – the four coming to visit were her close friends, so there was no reason to try to impress them with her slightly expensive apartment. It was no Sharpay Evans penthouse, but it was upscale to her apartment back in New York. Of course, she was also making money at the Times instead of her internship that paid nothing. Therefore, she was able to splurge ever so slightly.

Gabriella sighed, flopped down onto the couch, and reached for the remote with shaking hands. She was resisting the overwhelming sensation to check her laptop to be certain that they landed on time. As she began to aimlessly flip through the channels, not really watching, she laughed at how pathetic she was acting. Of course, she had made a few work friends and went out for drinks with the couple down the hall every once in awhile, but they weren't her _friends_. They were no Taylor or Sharpay or Chad or especially Jason and – her mind panged with loneliness at the final thought.

The wait was beginning to become unbearable. The distraction of the television wasn't helping, so she quickly switched it off and began to pace once again. With every step, she shimmied in and out of the rotating sunlight. It was a perfect afternoon apart from the beat of the heat.

Passing the window, something caught her eye. From four stories up, there was no denying the bright yellow vehicle that was parked beside the sidewalk. Heart hammering wildly against her chest, Gabriella slammed her nose against the glass and almost suffocated with the carbon dioxide that rebounded back to her. The long blonde hair that sashayed in a ponytail was unmistakable – she suddenly felt the blood in her veins rush quickly with excitement and had the urge to sprint towards the stairwell to meet them from below.

It was unnecessary. The musical knock upon the door was enough.

She had never run so fast in her life. Hurdling over the coffee table, however, was idiotic. Her foot smacked against the sharp edge of the dark wood and caused her to curse loudly. That didn't stop her. Gabriella continued to plunder towards the door until she practically smashed into it. Taking a deep breath, she closed her fingers around the knob and yanked it open with all of her might.

"Are you sure we have the right…"

"GABRIELLA!"

She recognized the scent immediately when it enclosed her tightly into its embrace. It was crisp, like the ocean chopping against the beach in a rainstorm. It made her smile. She couldn't help but shove her nose into the cotton of his yellow t-shirt and absorb the aroma that smelt so much better than her memories. The person gripped her lower waste with such a power and intensity that it was difficult to keep her eyes from watering in happiness. Squeezing around his waist even tighter, Gabriella buried her face into his chest and fought against the emotions that were threatening to flood down her face. The warmth the embrace provided was euphoric. It was as though she had forgotten how much she missed it until she felt it again – the security of his arms and all they represented.

"You're here." Gabriella whispered softly, yet the intensity was overwhelming.

She could hear the smile in his voice when he responded, "We're here."

At that moment, two other additions of weigh threw themselves into the hug that quickly became a group effort. Gabriella giggled, feeling sandwiched together in a mash of love that projected from the four friends. She knew the low rumble of laughter anywhere, as well as the feminine hands that gripped at her arm as well. They lingered, for seconds far too long before Chad and Taylor slowly peeled themselves from behind and beamed brightly at her. Reluctantly, the male holding her pulled away. Gabriella gazed adoringly up into his milky eyes and grinned.

He looked down when the pressure became too much for her injured foot and she lifted the weight off it. With her hands still on his shoulders, he raised a single black eyebrow before nodding to it, "What's with the Texas size bruise?"

Gabriella blushed. The excitement from their arrival had all but dissipated, "I sorta… tried to be a track star when you knocked."

Jason shook his head and swooped in to press a kiss to her forehead, "Atta girl."

Finally, she peeled herself away and stared at the couple who were staring brightly at her. Taylor, wrapped in an orange summer dress, immediately leapt forward and grasped her forearms with her hands. Gabriella's smiled matched hers as she looked the journalist up and down, inspecting.

"Look at you! You're so tan… and your bangs!" She reached up and fingered the newly formed swoop that curled just about Gabriella's right eye, matching the coils that twirled over her back.

"Look at me? Look at you, Tay! Your hair is so long now." Gabriella lifted up the black strands that now fell just beneath her muscular shoulders. Her chocolate skin already blended with the darkened tones of those in California. Her eyes, however, bulged when they took sight of the man standing behind her. She pushed her childhood friend and walked in a trance towards the unrecognizable figure, "Chad? What the fuck did you do with your afro?" She asked, bewildered. Not caring what he thought, she reached up to touch the short mess of curls that framed his head, along with the fuzzy goatee he sported around his lips.

Chad shrugged, "It was time for a change. Gotta keep you on your toes, right?" He playfully nudged her shoulder playfully before slinging his arm around in a tight squeeze.

"So this is your pad, huh?" Jason commented. His hand trailed approvingly over the shiny surface of the granite. In the kitchen area. He nodded, impressed, when he took sight in the decorative art that adorned the walls and swaying vegetation just beyond the bay window that was her view, "Really Gab, a fucking palm tree out your backyard? Is that your home or some fucking sweet vacation house?" He teased.

Gabriella pouted and crossed her arms, noticing the lack of luggage in his hands, "You could have stayed here, but _no_, you needed to get a hotel room!"

"Hey! You still have the couch!" Chad injected an unsubtle move to shift the conversation in a different direction. He looked up at her with bright eyes, "I think it looked better in NYC."

Not wanting to kill the mood with her protests, Gabriella sighed, "Yeah… the movers weren't quite as fun as last time though."

Taylor touched her arm tenderly, "We'll be sure to help next time again."

Gabriella smiled softly, trying not to feel bitter about being forced to move in the first place when her life in California was more elite than she ever imagined. Not now, especially when she was ecstatic her friends hand finally come to visit after months of separation."How was your flight?" Gabriella inquired, bouncing on the ball of her foot – the other still throbbed with pain.

Taylor rolled her eyes, waving her hand after dropping her leather purse to the floor, "The boys snored the entire time, but other than that I just read and listened to Sharpay speak baby talk with Zeke. It's was repulsive."

"Where is Shar anyways?" Gabriella asked, glancing towards the door to remember that there was one more companion tagging along.

For a brief moment, the room changed. The wary glances that were exchanged did not go unnoticed by Gabriella, even in her blissful state. Chad and Jason held each other's gaze for a long moment before Jason's sturdy chin made a quick jerk in a nod. Gabriella frowned, uncomfortable with this pass.

However, the tone shifted once again when Jason cleared his throat with a sarcastic cackle, "She needed to bring her day bag up or whatever. You know her; she has seven different shirts to wear in one hour." He grinned brightly, clearly ecstatic to be in her presence once again.

"Yeah, I do know."

There was a silence, of which the three appeared as though they won the lottery. Gabriella took a step backwards, bewildered. They had changed so much since she last hugged them in JFK's airport. There was a tiny pang in her heart, a regret that she hadn't been around for the chop of Chad's beast or the slip of the diamond ring Gabriella assumed she would see upon Sharpay's finger. These little milestones had passed without her presence, making her feel like a slight outsider. Crossing her arms over the black halter she wore and brushing her hands against the jean shorts, she glanced down at the floor and attempted to say something that would make up for her abandonment in the exciting time of their lives.

It was unnecessary, however, because the sound of a shrilling argument filled the room when the blonde actress strutted in with her cage heels and all too short white skirt that strapped to her backside.

"Ugh, could you hurry it up? I thought athletes were supposed to be strong or whatever!" She called over her bony shoulder, popping her hip out and letting the shimmer of pink explode across the walls from her tank top. Her sunglasses were pushed up on her golden head, framing her face and causing her cascading hair to blow around her. She looked like plastic.

And it made Gabriella beam like a kid on Christmas.

"Sharpay!" Gabriella announced her presence and almost rammed into the coffee table once again. She threw her arms around the Broadway star and practically knocked her to the ground. Thankfully, Shapray was an expert at maintaining balance in awkward positions on her heels and managed to keep them standing. Gabriella squeezed tightly around her stick-like waist and choked on the yellow stands that collected in her mouth. Towering over her, Sharpay patted the top of her head, though Gabriella could see the flicker of a truly content grin, "You look amazing!"

"I know, right?" Sharpay said cockily when Gabriella let go of her, giggling.

She bit her lip, unable to keep the smile off of her face as she looked at her four friends with such devotion. Stepping towards Jason and feeling his arm wrap around her shoulder, she gushed, "I'm so happy you guys are …"

"God dammit Evans… did you bring your whole penthouse in this fucking thing?"

Gabriella's heart suddenly stopped beating .If Jason hadn't been holding her up, she would have fainted.

She had imagined this moment for fourteen excruciatingly long weeks – when she turned around and was suddenly faced with all of God's beauty in one man. Her fantasies of bumping into him at Sharpay and Zeke's wedding or flying out to New York for Christmas Eve seemed more logical in her mind, not something as simple as him standing in the threshold of her door with a pink suitcase dropped at his heels. The crazy concoctions of her mind involved either her bursting towards him and throwing her arms around his neck in a tight embrace as she had with Jason or him with Alicia on his arm. But neither occurred – after three and a half months of isolation from each other, Troy Bolton simply stood in front of her with his scalped jaw hanging slightly unhinged and his piercing irises penetrating into the depths of hers, just like they always had.

At first she thought it was a dream, none of the people she loved were standing in her apartment and she was going to wake up with a broken heart again. But her memory could not have that much credit to it; the details of Troy's body were far too intense for it to be a mere recreation. His sparkling teeth were far too white and his skin was kissed with the sun in the perfect shade that was much darker than she remembered. The hair that was still spiked was cut even shorter than it had been previously, leaving no room for a flop that he had held in his previous life but by no means being too much of a buzz. There were shadows beneath his chest due to the strength of his chest and the arms that were highlighted by the tight cling of his red t-shirt. It was too precise, too beautiful to be a figment of her imagination.

Jason removed his arm as though the position didn't belong to him, quickly shooting looks between the ex couple with both curiosity and hesitation, "Gab…?" He started.

"I'm sorry."

The statement held more power than intended as he looked up at her, the first sober words he had physically spoken to her since he revealed the horrors of his past all those months ago. It was difficult to breathe, let alone respond. Therefore, Troy swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, never once breaking their eye contact, "I shouldn't have…"

"Come?" Gabriella finally found her voice, though it was slightly raspy. She tried to clear it and took a step forward, increasing the intensity between the two, "No, no really it's fine. I just wasn't…"

"Expecting me?" Troy asked, moving his foot toward her ever so slightly, in case he would ignite a slumbering giant from within, "I know, I should have called or told you but I was afraid you would tell me to…"

"Stay in New York? No, I'd never." She shook her head, her black curls flying everywhere with the pull of her feet, "I'm just really surprised to see you. I just thought you'd be…"

"Busy? No, I… I wanted to come." He swallowed and gripped a chunk of his hair before peering upwards, his eyes bright and periwinkle. Gabriella suddenly realized they were now mere inches apart, too close to be friendly yet too far to be intimate. She could feel the soft trickles of his breath that left feathers upon her cheeks. A blush rose to her face when he didn't bother to hide the way his eyes trailed approvingly over her body, from her bare legs to her exposed cleavage, "You look…"

"Good?" Gabriella bit her lip, "So do you."

He flashed her a warm smile, the one that had always been saved for her, "I was going to say stunning." He whispered low enough that only she heard it, which made the comment only that much more touching.

They continued to stare at each other, unable to accept that they were finally in each other's presence. Gabriella's finger itched with a twitch to run them over his skin, beneath his shirt, through his hair. It was curious that, no matter how many attractive men from sunny Los Angeles requested for her number, the same electrical vibes ran down her back as they had when they were back in New York. The distance had not changed how she felt about him, how she longed for him. But of course, there was no way of knowing whether Troy was already hitched to another girl or if he even felt the similar vibrations about her.

"Well this is awkward." Sharpay stated bluntly, crossing her arms and tapping her fingers against her skin.

"No it's not." Both Troy and Gabriella responded at the same time, catching an embarrassed glance at each other. Nothing was ever awkward between them.

"So, babe," Gabriella turned towards Jason, too early to see Troy stiffen at the nickname, "What's on the agenda for tonight?"

Gabriella, finally able to feel her throbbing toes again, glanced at the five who had come from millions of miles away just to see her. She felt a swell of gratitude, her broken heart slowly began to piece itself back together, but not quite whole. But it was a start – with the power of the stare drilling into the back of her head, she had never felt so at home as she did in that moment. Although the sun was beginning to set in her large window, the world beamed around her within the walls of the tiny apartment, the way it was supposed to.

"Well, for starters, I could give you a tour? And then there's this Mexican restaurant we could go to." Gabriella suggested.

Shapray snorted, "A tour of _what?_"

Taylor sent her an evil glare, "A tour would be wonderful."

"I love Mexican!" Jason announced, rubbing his hands together hungrily.

Gabriella caught a glance at Troy, seeing him smirking slightly with his khaki shorts leaning against her cabinets, the way only he could.

"Well, then… show us the way." Chad grinned and pressed a kiss to Taylor's head, instigating they were to commence with the tour.

Fire spread through Gabriella's body as she looked at Troy one more time, introducing him to her brand new life, "Right this way."


	37. Minute Thirty Seven

**A/N: As always, thank you so much for reading. I know a lot of you were slightly angry that I skipped ahead three months, but I did it because I personally felt that writing about the time in between would have been redundant and it would have dragged. Ultimately, as an author, I need to choose what I feel is right for the story, and that was the path I chose. But I really appreciated the honesty in your reviews. Really, honesty is only going to make me better… so thank you for caring enough to let me know your true thoughts.**

**I hope you like this chapter. The song that goes with it is La Isla Bonita.

* * *

**

Troy had missed her.

It wasn't even a mental thought that he had carried around with him when he attempted to go about his days. He _missed _her – physically, emotionally, romantically, sexually, and passionately. It wasn't like after Emily's funeral; he had felt a powerful emotion that ate away his intestines and left him to rot then. Her betrayal and selfishness hadn't been as excruciating as how Troy had felt every day for fourteen weeks before seeing Gabriella. This pain wasn't a stab; it was a dull ache that pulsed with each beat of his heart, pumping blood through his body without oxygen. Of course, he managed, but not without a cost. Colors had dulled and smells faded in her absence. Half of him had disappeared – the better half, the human half.

He hadn't said goodbye – which could have been why he had craved her for three months in their separation. At first, it had seemed most logical to him: had he caved to her constant texts and voicemails of asking him to say goodbye at the airport that fateful morning, he was certain he wouldn't have had the strength to really let her go. They could have tried a long distance relationship of course, but at the time, Troy had stupidly thought it would have only distracted her as Emily had with him while he was on the road. He couldn't fully sever in a clean break; the bi-weekly emails of an attempt at small talk he had sent had been enough to keep him functioning.

The first week of her departure he had drown himself with alcohol, yet the loneliness remained. He hadn't bothered eating – he was only going to purge it back into the toilet anyways. Thankfully, Chad had banged on his door and dragged him back into civilization. He screamed at an unresponsive Troy for three hours straight before bringing him to the only place that would snap some life into him – the basketball courts.

Troy hadn't been healed after that, but it was bearable. He was able to smile and laugh and enjoy himself as he always had, but there was a piece of him missing. The bed was too big and he couldn't read the newspaper without feeling a burn in his eyes. His hands shook every time he visited Taylor or Chad – his eyes shifting towards the fifty year-old widow who had taken over her residency. Gabriella had entered his life and left her mark, making it impossible for him to return to the life he had before she had danced into his. He didn't just crave the fingers of a woman, he yearned for the touch of _his _woman – the one he had shipped across the country thinking it was best for her. Which, given the tour of the apartment, it had been.

But he hadn't expected his heart to be shipped off right with her.

He wasn't oblivious to the way she kept glancing over at him from across the purple and orange table either, while their friends proved their idiocy over and over with each shot glass they consumed. Although he didn't want to admit it, it gave him an ego stroke to know that she was still paying attention to him. And no matter how many times Jason wrapped his arm around her, Troy knew she would steal a glance at him, confirming that even if Jason and Kelsi had broken up two months ago, their relationship remained platonic.

"Bolton, Bolton, Bolton!" Chad announced from across the way, lifting his arms haphazardly and not caring who he swung into. Troy noticed the way his eyes were black, due to the dilated pupils of drunkenness and stupidity, and his cheeks were flushed, matching the rest of the table beneath the delicate painting brought by Spanish influence, "Dude… sing Journey with me, man!"

Snorting, Troy leaned back in his chair and raised the beer bottle to his lips, "Fuck no."

"Do it man! Do it!" Jason cheered, lifting his glass of tequila in a toast.

Troy didn't know how long his friends had been drinking for, nor did he care. Thankfully, the restaurant and bar was too focused on being sure the group in the corner wouldn't rip each others heads off in a slurred fight that escaladed. Troy himself was feeling a slight buzz, but not to the point of obnoxiousness like Chad was expressing as he stood. The rest of the group seemed to be in the same state of mind that he was, or so Troy thought. He was thankful he had already known the route to Gabriella's apartment in case they would need a sober leader.

"I'm not going to burst out in Journey, you idiot." Troy rolled his eyes, feeling uncomfortable with the stares he was catching from the other groups scattered around the bar.

"Troy," he jumped when he felt a hand run through his spiked bangs from the side. Sharpay's gaze was lustful, no matter how her ring glistened in the dimmed lighting, "Do it, for me, please?"

Troy could feel the burn of Gabriella's stare on the side of his cheek when he slowly pulled away from her touch, knowing Zeke wouldn't be happy if his fiancée was hitting on the guy she used to be infatuated with, "I'm going to get air." Troy announced to everyone and no one at the same time, pushing away from the table and standing up. His eyes met the smolder of Gabriella's for a brief moment, feeling an inferno rush to his toes and back to his heart again.

"Party pooper…. _Just a small town girl!_" The sound of Chad's bellow echoed through the restaurant as he passed the clay covered walls and attempted to hide his face from the curious bystanders that had noticed him when he first entered the restaurant – a price for returning to the town that made him famous.

The atmosphere was clearer when he stepped out into the night. It was warm, a contrast to the iciness of New York in the winter. But he had gotten used to it in the two weeks he had inhabited the area. There were couples cuddled together beneath the canopy the restaurant provided, filtering the twinkling stars and lights of the city from above. The large, adobe pillars held up the shelter with elegance and intimacy. Troy leaned against one, listening to the Latin love song that whispered through the entwined legs of the lovers and coiled through the pink lilies that threaded through the structure above. He smiled at the elderly man with his hand holding the delicate palm of his wife, whispering sweet nothings that never faded with time.

His arm curled around the support, allowing his eyes to close and imagine himself at that age, holding the hand of perfection itself.

The same perfection that sung her harmonic voice from behind.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Troy turned around and swallowed thickly, thinking that yes, his vision was indeed beautiful.

Gabriella's white cocktail dress sashayed as she walked towards him in her heels that were far from innocent, yet were not by any means slutty. Her hair bounced as she walked towards him, framing the angelic face that held a tiny smile. Unable to help himself, he gave her a once over, admiring the way her dress hugged the curves of her breasts and hips in the perfect spots that made his mouth run dry. Her skin glowed – Troy was certain that she was holy, a divine sent from above. He longed to reach out and brush her freshly cut bangs aside or trail his fingers down the surface cup of her chest. Instead, he shoved them into his jeans and attempted to silence the man within.

"What are you doing out here?" She asked when she reached him - her eyes big and bright.

Troy shrugged nonchalantly, "It was getting…crowded in there." He glanced sideways to be sure there were no other onlookers catching a sneak peak at the ex basketball star.

She smiled in understanding, which made Troy uneasy. This was the first time they had been alone since he had confessed of his past to her. It made him slightly wary under her scrutiny, but her smile was both therapeutic and contagious. He had missed it, just as he had missed everything else about her.

"I'm surprised you're not wasted." Gabriella's fingers trailed over the surface of the clay fence that surrounded the restaurant. The déjà vu of standing upon Sharpay's balcony a year ago overcame him – when this whole mess began.

Troy chuckled and leaned towards her, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her perfume, "Neither are you."

Gabriella raised her shoulders innocently, "Someone's got to make sure we get home. I don't want to do anything I'd regret."

A pang pierced through his heart, immediately causing him to turn away. Regret? He didn't want to think of the implications of that word and what alcohol could have potentially done to them. Even now, Troy struggled to restrain himself from brushing the back of his fingers over her cheek or collect her in his embrace. Under the influence, Troy knew he would have had no chance and would have jumped her the first opportunity he got. But control was instrumental in completing her happiness. And if that meant being sure she would not regret anything, then so be it.

Fire burned through his sports jacket when he felt a hand rest on his bicep. Obviously, she had noticed his change and she took to looking up at him with a blazing stare, "I'm really happy you came."

He shifted so his body was mostly supported by the pillar as Gabriella's thumb gently rubbed. Oh god, how he wanted to hold her – to kiss her and touch her and ravish her. Her dress wiggled in the wind as she stepped closer, increasing the intensity and the tension that pulsated between them. She closed her eyes, never once faltering the curls of her shimmering lips, and inhaled deeply. He had never wanted to press his lips against someone as much as he did in that moment.

"Gab," he whispered, pushing gently at her clavicle to keep her from reaching the point of no return. His skin burned on impact, "we should head back. Jason will be wondering where you are."

Disappointed, but not surprised, Gabriella's lashes fluttered open and she stared at him, doe-eyed, "Right, the gang."

"Come on, you should be celebrating." Troy nodded towards the entrance. He stepped forward, leading her towards where she belonged…

…completely obvious to her frustrated groan behind him.

* * *

When Gabriella woke up the next morning, she already knew it was going to be a rough day.

Her back ached when she attempted to roll over the next morning, refusing to open her eyes in case the windows allowed lights to stream through. Already, her head throbbed and her stomach held the hallow sensation of burnt flesh. After several moments of contemplating whether or not she should brave the outside world yet, Gabriella dared to creak open her eyes the slightest to see a mountain range of lumps filling the inside of her bed. Surprisingly, it was bearable, so she opened her eyes fully and blinked several times to clear the sleep enough to see Jason's mouth pressed against the pillow beside her and Sharpay on his other side, snoring slightly.

Pushing back the covers delicately so she would not wake the other two, Gabriella wobbled when she first stood, not used to her legs quite yet. She staggered, holding her hands out to brace herself on the walls in case she was to topple over by accident. After settling herself, she began to drag her feet towards the door, careful to step over the snuggled couple upon the floor at the foot of her bed. Immediately after exiting, she gently closed the door behind her and was greeted with the distinct smell of coffee grounds.

She felt him before she saw him with his back turned towards her so she could admire the way his white dress shirt shimmied off his body. Gabriella swallowed, attempting to remain as quiet as possible as she tip toed forward and restrained the temptation to throw her arms around him in a tight embrace. It wasn't until he turned around with a coffee mug from her cabinet that he noticed her, his eyebrows raised with surprise.

"Morning." Troy greeted in a warm whisper, probably afraid of Gabriella's disturbing hangover. Thankfully, she seemed to not be as affected as she originally thought and only had a sharp headache and a slight stomachache.

"Morning." Gabriella responded neutrally, leaning against the granite counter top.

The fond smile that grew over his lips sent shivers down his toes, "Sorry I borrowed the coffee pot… but I figured it'd be sorta warm when you guys woke up."

"It's fine." Gabriella waved her fingers, but furrowed her eyebrow, "Why are you up, anyways?"

Troy shrugged and poured a glass of the java, "I'm headed to the gym, figured I'd get it done before you guys really started the day."

Even in her slightly fuzzy state, Gabriella cocked her head while giving his black pants and shiny shoes a once over, unconvinced, "You're going to the gym… in a suit? Do you even know where the gym _is_?"

"I scoped it out while walking to the restaurant last night." He slid the mug to her skillfully. Gabriella offered him a thankful grin while placing the ceramic to her lips.

"Are you feeling alright?" Troy asked after he poured himself a glass and leaned against the counter once again.

The memories of tequila were present, but hazy. She could recall every moment of her drunkenness, but everything simply blurred together in a mess of time that she hadn't grasped on. All she knew was that she was sober when she waltzed out of the restaurant to coax Troy back inside and then she was drunk when she left – contradicting her previous claim that she hadn't wanted to make herself vulnerable to throwing herself at him when he was leaving in just a few short days. But one drink ended up being five drinks in her happiness for her friends' visit. Therefore, she felt like a complete idiot standing before him while he looked so calm, attractive, and sobered.

Gabriella nodded, nursing her drink and allowing her black hair to spill around her shoulders, "You look pretty good for what happened."

Awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, Troy chuckled, "I laid low last night. Someone had to make sure we got home and sleep on the couch instead of the orgy in there." He nodded towards her bedroom door, raising a mortified blush to her cheeks at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as her best friend while perfection itself had remained outside.

"Troy, Troy I swear to god nothing…"

"It's cool." His eyes were ice when he spoke; proving he thought it was anything but cool. It was possible he was having flashbacks to what his own best friend used to do to him when they ended up in the same bed together. Gabriella shuddered, thinking of the reasons for her as a distraction.

Troy glanced down at his watch, "Shit… I gotta run." he threw his coffee back in one toss and put it into the sink.

Eyes bugging, Gabriella suddenly became desperately worried. He was leaving? After just arriving the day before? Frozen water crept through her veins and panic suddenly exploded within her mind. She craved for every moment possible with him, after the months of abandonment she had experienced. Gabriella slammed her mug down all too powerfully and attempted to calm her trembling hands. Troy glanced up at her warily as he shrugged on the matching jacket and slung a tie around his neck to be perfected at a later time.

"Gab?" He called softly, tenderly, as if he still loved her.

Gabriella couldn't help herself. Her hand jutted out and gripped his wrist with such desperation that she didn't even know she possessed, "Yo-you're coming back?" Her voice vibrated.

Baby blue and shiny, his eyes widened in understanding, "I'm not… I'm gonna meet you at The Times today. I just gotta do this first…"

The world stopped crumbling at her feet as she let out a sigh, not even bothering to question where he was truly going since all she cared about was that he was coming back, "Promise?" She whispered, staring up at him.

Troy smiled and tapped the bottom of her chin - an action that could be interchangeable of platonic or romantic, "I promise. I'll meet you there at one," he turned towards the door with a brisk stride, "oh, Gabi?"

Gabriella turned to see his head was thrown back and he was snickering, "Hmmm?"

"Make sure you put some pants on before heading to work."

His laughter echoed when Gabriella glanced down to see she was only dressed in a violet cami and her stripped boy shorts underwear.

* * *

"I think this is my favorite spot on the tour."

Gabriella, blushing embarrassingly, rolled her eyes and slapped Jason's chest, "Jase, it's my desk. There's nothing exciting about it."

Jason shrugged, bending over with his forefinger and his thumb caressing his chin and surveyed over the pictures that hung loosely on the walls. She could see the reflection of the imagines shinning in the glossy surface of his dark eyes. Placing a hand on her swiveling chair to keep balance, Gabriella stepped backwards and allowed Chad and Taylor to step forwards as well, pointing and smiling every time they spotted an appearance of themselves. Luckily, the news room was busy enough to keep their conversation private, yet not chaotic to make her feel stressed. Although Gabriella was itching to move her fingers against the keyboard as the other journalists were doing, she continued to grin fondly at her friends' excitement for her accomplishments since she left New York.

"This is wonderful, Gabriella." Taylor gushed and raised to her full height once again, "We're so incredibly proud of you."

Jason nodded, throwing his head over his shoulder, "We are. You're the best picture hanger I've ever met."

Repressing the temptation to flip him off in case any of her bosses happened to swing by, Gabriella chose to stuck her tongue out instead, "Hey… at least I actually have walls to hang stuff on. You just have a desk where you sit and stare at the Big Mac sitting in Frank's ass." She teased. Chad chuckled, though his eyes were hallowed and he had barely spoken all morning. Gabriella assumed he wanted to be, as Sharpay was at that moment, back at her apartment and trying to sleep off an epic hangover.

"Aren't you supposed to be taking the day off today?"

Gabriella' head snapped up at the unexpected voice that hummed softly behind her. Cranking towards the entrance of the cubical, the man who started this dream leaned up against the corner with his blue eyes twinkling as he gazed upon her friends – immediately jumping to a proper stance with wide eyes. In his calloused hands, he waved a copy of The Los Angeles Times to fan the beads of sweat that hugged his hairline.

"Jeremy! Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I should have asked if I could…"

"Montez, chill." Jeremy rolled his eyes, "But if you don't introduce me to them, I might get a little pissed."

A rush of rose spilled over her cheeks over her embarrassing overreaction. However, she smiled when she turned back towards her friends, who were beaming brightly back at her, "This is Chad Danforth, Taylor McKessie, and Jason Cross. Jase is a photographer at The Tribute." Gabriella explained and pointed to each respective friend as she spoke their names.

"I'm Jeremy Allen, I make sure this girl stays in line." Jeremy winked in her direction while shaking hands with all three. Giggling at his lax behavior, Gabriella faded backwards as Jason's face lit up while in the presence of an editor so elite, "How's Frankie treatin' ya Cross?"

His dark eyebrow furrowed at the recognition of his bosses name, "You know Frank?"

Jeremy snorted, "It's hard not to know Frank. He and I wrote on The New York Times for a year or two before he started The Tribute. I used to hide his donuts every morning in the copy room. Needless to say, he didn't like me much. Can't imagine why." He chuckled, running a hand through his floppy blonde locks and beaming brightly with his sparkling smile.

Suddenly, the air in the news room shifted. Heads popped out from their cubical like daisies, all swiveling in the same direction. Jason felt it too, being in the atmosphere of reporters, and began to reflexively reach for his belt loop where he camera laid. Jeremy glanced up too, raising his eyebrows and surveying the scene simultaneously to the way Gabriella was doing. Her body was on guard and she was in pouncing position when the young journalist who summoned her the day before rushed behind her boss, panting breathlessly.

"Jeremy… you'll never guess who rose from the dead…" He gasped, not even realizing Gabriella was there.

"What are you talking about?"

Gabriella, however, didn't hear Jeremy's demand for information. Instead, her heart skipped a beat when she caught sight of something far more entrancing that someone rising from the dead. Although she was barely as tall as the top of the faux walls – even in her three inch heels – she wouldn't miss his entrance for a simple barrier as height. Her pulse pitter pattered as she watched Troy's brisk stride, his aviators covered the intensityof his eyes as he swiveled his head around, completely ignoring whatever was capturing everyone else's attention. She didn't care either. The flashing lights around, the whispers – these were lost in the pull she had towards him, her desire to hold him.

That was, until she heard, "You've got to be pulling my dick, he's alive."

Gabriella blinked and suddenly realized what everyone was gawking at: the same thing she was.

"Oh shit…" Chad mumbled, suddenly awakening to what was occurring.

Although The Los Angeles Times was a highly respectable newspaper, cameras were flashing like the paparazzi. Troy was unphased, practiced by this experience. His jaw was a rock, but there was a flicker of a smirk that curled as he approached. There were whispers, but no one dared to speak to him. It felt as though Tom Cruise was walking through the bees nest, only worse. The reactions varied – some, the newer reporters, were completely oblivious to whom he was and the more experienced who had remembered typing their own articles about him and were completely dumbstruck. Apparently, the years that had passed meant little – he still had left his mark in Los Angeles.

Gabriella jumped when he didn't stop before her and instead grabbed her shoulders, never once removing his sunglasses, even if he was inside. She trembled when he leaned towards her ear, his breath hot with passion, "You're the only one I would walk through this for." He whispered huskily, making Gabriella breathless with just a few simple words.

The sentence's meaning meant more than it should have.

His head brought around and he gave her a soft, one sided smile. A flash of a camera from behind illuminated the scar that ran down his cheek - one that still made him beautiful.

"Well I'll be damned…" Jeremy broke their stare and Troy immediately dropped his arms, leaving Gabriella with an empty sensation around her clavicle. However, Jason set her a knowing look when Troy unconsciously stepped in front of her possessively. Warning bells rung in her head, reminding her not to get too comfortable – for she still had no idea what his relationship status was and in case this was all just a natural reaction to her. For all she knew, Alicia and him could have returned to their status as it was before she entered his life. She didn't want to break her own heart with childish dreams that this might mean anything more.

"Troy Bolton? I can honestly say I never thought I'd see you again." her boss grinned, slightly star struck. The cameras continued to flicker, but suddenly Jeremy became aggressive. He shot around towards the photographers and swatted them away, "Who do you think you are, TMZ? Go take pictures somewhere else!" Quickly, the employees scattered and he turned back to the basketball star, "Sorry about that."

Troy shrugged casually, but didn't take away his disguise. Gabriella suddenly felt as though he was a celebrity, this year's heartthrob. And he had been hers for a brief moment in her life.

"Can't say I was expecting that." Troy commented. It was bizarre to hear him speak so freely about something he had kept a secret from her for so long. How strange that no one knew exactly who he was in New York, but once in LA, he had become famous once again.

"Jeremy Allen, huge fan." Jeremy jut out his hand, which Troy immediately took to shake.

"Troy Bolton." Troy introduced himself, as though Jeremy had no idea who he was.

"Montez!" The blonde mop flopped as he whirled to her, "Why the hell didn't you tell me you knew this guy?"

Knew him? That was an understatement. Gabriella had memorized every inch of him. Troy turned to her slightly, his hand reaching out as though to break the air between them and brush against her. Her three friends noticed, but remained silent when Gabriella simply shrugged, "You never asked."

"I'd love to run a story, I always wondered what happened to you. Montez can even write it, if she's okay with picking at your past." Jeremy snickered with a playful elbow nudge.

This, of all things, made Troy finally swivel his head towards her with raised eyebrows. A sudden rush of memories to the night in the black of her apartment and the horror story he had whispered crawled up her body. She shivered, but never faltered her gaze from beneath Troy's glasses. He was waiting, waiting for her confession. Gabriella swallowed, fighting against her instincts to place a hand on his arm or lace their fingers together in support.

Gabriella laughed dryly and shook her head, "Eh… he doesn't strike me as someone I'd want to uncover." She responded with a smirk on her lips that was mirrored on Troy's.


	38. Minute Thirty Eight

**A/N: The song for this chapter is "Faithfully".**

**Enjoy. For those of you who don't read author's notes, there is only one more chapter after this one. Thank you for reading, as always.

* * *

**

"I think it's time to get going."

The words never stung so hard, nor left such a jab in her heart. Gabriella looked up, befuddled, at her best friend. Pulse quickening and desperation bubbling in her stomach, she quickly shook her head, "No, no you guys don't have to leave yet, do you?"

The wary glance Taylor sent Jason from across the couch did not go unnoticed by Gabriella, even if her breath began to escalade with desperation causing her to break away from reality. While seated upon the ground, she pulled her bare legs closer to her chest to keep from splitting in half. After an excruciatingly long minute, Taylor tore her gaze from him and smiled sadly at her, "Gabriella… it's going on eight and all of us are dead tired from last night."

"Are you kidding? Everyone looks alive as ever!"

As she survived the scene, this denial was furthest from the truth. Jason's eyelids were fighting to remain opened and stared at the television that glimmered in the darkness. Chad was sprawled over the couch, snoring loudly. Taylor's eyes were bloodshot and Sharpay was lying pathetically on the floor with a pillow covering her blonde curls. The only one unaffected was the man seated in the chair that provided as her back rest, with his jean covered leg mere inches away from her bare arms. Troy was erect, yet not uncomfortable. It made her pores tingle with desire to be so close to him. She didn't want any of them to leave, especially him.

"Gabs, we're all tired and slightly hungover," Jason confessed and rose to a stance, "It's time to head back to the… hotel."

Taylor then took that as the cue to gently shake Chad's shoulder. Gabriella, however, was unconvinced. Leaping to her feet, the carpet rumbled beneath her and stirred a slumbering Sharpay. There was both bemusement and slight fright when Gabriella took a step forward, her voice trembling, "Are you guys bored? Because we could get a poker game going or something… Oh! I think I have Catch Phrase in the closet." She hysterically began to rush towards the door of her room, but was quickly captured by the bicep.

Spinning her around, Jason took her shoulders in his grasp and forced her to look up at him, "Gabriella. We're going to be back tomorrow. We need to go."

Frantic, Gabriella shook her head, "No… no you can just stay here…"

"Gab." Another voice, a beautiful voice, hummed in her ear. She quickly whirled her head around, slapped Jason's cheeks with her curls in the process, and felt lightning surge through her toes as the backs of Troy's fingers delicately ran down the surface of her arm now that he was standing, "We're not going anywhere, alright?" He cooed – the intensity of his eyes was overwhelming. She was thankful Jason was holding her upright, for her legs became jello.

Gabriella deliberated this for a brief moment, weighing the chances of whether or not he would keep his promise. Finally, she sighed and gazed through her lashes at Jason once again, pleading, "You promise you'll come back first thing in the morning?"

Flickering his sights towards Taylor once again, Jason smirked before collecting her into his arms. Gabriella could feel the burn of two lasers into the back of her head when the photographer's lips pressed to her forehead, but had it bothered him, Troy remained silent. Fluttering her eyes closed, Gabriella looped her arms around his torso and Jason tucked her head beneath his chin, rocking her back and forth ever so slightly. She could feel his hands rub down her back soothingly, as though silently confirming his promise to her.

Tipping her head to his chest, Jason pushed back a heap of her curls before she looked up at him once again, "I promise. You can't get rid of me, babe. I'm like an annoying thorn."

Through everything that had happened back in New York and now into Los Angeles, Jason Cross had been loyal to her side. From the moment he poked fun at her stained blouse, the two had become inseparable. She had confided in him through the journey of discovering Troy's past, he had cried to her when Kelsi broke up with him two months ago. They had grown a bond that would never be replaced. They weren't comparable to siblings, since siblings liked to rip each other's throats out – they were closer. The distance would not falter this; Gabriella was certain that they would remain in their teasing phases through the rest of time. And she honestly didn't know what she would do without him.

Gabriella smiled widely, "But you're my favorite thorn."

Jason scrunched his nose, "You damn well know it."

The other hugs she received were slightly less dramatic – Sharpay could barely stand on her own and Chad kept it short and sweet, along with Taylor. She attempted to prolong their departure by offering food or getting sweatshirts for the ninety degree weather outside her door, but Taylor was insistent on hurrying them out. Before she was truly ready to take on the task, Gabriella found herself turning around and her breath sucking in when she caught sight of Troy staring at her longingly.

She felt like a little girl when he approached her with a sad curl upon his lip - too afraid to turn off the lights at bedtime. Although she knew they were present, the others were lost in her apartment.

"I'll just see you tomorrow, then?" His eyes twinkled when he spoke, the lines creased in the corner of his lids.

Gabriella said nothing, but instead squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want him to leave, he couldn't.

"Night Gab." Troy parted, grazing her cheek with the back of his hand.

The moment he stepped away, a sudden surge of love burst through her veins. She couldn't let him go, no matter if they were together or not. She felt desperation rush to her heart, a fire in her chest. Her eyes flew open and she shot her arm out, catching his wrist. He recoiled, surprised when she tugged with strength. Towards the door, Taylor gasped and Jason began to snicker triumphantly, but it was unheard as Gabriella stared up at him.

"Stay." Gabriella hissed, though it wasn't cynical. It was raw, powerful, and pleading – begging.

Troy's mouth hung open agape. She could tell he was struggling to find the necessary words to convey the fight within, but he was speechless. Gabriella herself was surprised by her forwardness, but allowing him to walk out the door seemed like a much more deadly option than her mortification.

"Gab," he swallowed, "I-"

"We can set up a bed on the couch." Gabriella interrupted, breathless, "Troy, I just… please. I don't want to be alone."

Troy looked down at their connection on his arm, as though it would reveal the most ethical answer. Her heartbeat punched against her chest, wildly. Chewing upon her lip, she counted the number of seconds before Troy's eyes flashed upwards, hot and passionate.

"You guys can take my key." Troy announced loudly before reaching for his jeans pocket, making Gabriella's toes go numb and her heart melt like butter. She was too drunk off his words to question why they would need Troy's hotel key if they had their own.

Gabriella turned around to see all of they, with the exception of unconscious Sharpay, were beaming brightly at the two of them. Jason, however, shrugged with a wicked smirk, "No need, man. I stole it an hour ago."

"And I grabbed some clothes for you while we were at yo… the hotel." Taylor confessed proudly, the clear planner of the group, "They're in Gabriella's closet."

"You did _what_?" He asked, perplexed.

Gabriella and Troy looked at each other at the same time, dumbfounded, realizing they had been set up.

"I told you you'd want your privacy!" Jason sung as he ripped the door opened and wiggled his fingers, "Be safe!" He called before the door slammed to a shut behind, leaving Troy and Gabriella standing, shocked.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Gabriella had never wanted anything more than she wanted Troy Bolton that night.

However, with this want, there were so many layers that didn't quite make it black and white. The first, the obvious, was the burning pulsation between her legs that craved to be filled. It was the most primitive of wants, the most simplistic that caused her to cross her legs in a pretzel style as she sat upon the floor as he propped his elbow upon his knee and leaned against the couch – a midway between vertical and horizontal. This desire was mild, however, compared to the inferno that scorched in her heart. She wanted _him_. All of him, they way they were just a few months ago in the blissful city of Albuquerque. The emotional attachment, once again, was all she needed. She refused to listen to her physical desires unless she knew that he was not about to escape on her. She would never have a one night stand with Troy Bolton – he meant too damn much to her.

"I'm serious! The guy just totally wiped out on a banana peel. I swear to god, it was like a cartoon." Gabriella giggled uncontrollably as Troy threw his head back in laughter, tears beginning to collect in the corner of his eyes.

"God, I would have killed to see that." Troy stated, not even bothering to screen the irony of his comment

Gabriella timidly glanced downwards at the piles of cardboard boxes that created white and red mountains a few feet away from them. The aroma of Chinese takeout still filled the steamy apartment, even if the bay window had been opened to filter the balming Californian air. She wasn't sure how long they had been sitting on the ground, which was slightly idiotic since the couch was plainly open, but she didn't care. They had never been typical, therefore the position reflected the balance of their relationship, for lack of a better term, one Gabriella would never trade away.

"So you basically know everything that ever happened to me since I moved out here." Gabriella said, looking up through him through the flutter of her lashes, "What has happened in the past three months with you?"

Troy let out a breath that sounded like a laugh, "Your life has been much more exciting than mine has been."

Gabriella smiled, though her stomach was panging with anxiousness, "Nope, I'm tired of talking. It's your turn."

"Demanding." He joked, sticking out his tongue.

Rolling her eyes, she unconsciously scooted closer to him, admiring the way the golden light highlighted the bronze in his face, "Troy, don't make me get the laptop out to Google you."

It was strange how easily she was able to joke about the task she had sent out to do while in New York. She would have expected, had it been anyone else, they would have felt being left alone was awkward or uncomfortable. But after ranting about their traitorous friends' scheme of banishing them to each other, Gabriella commented of how hungry she was. Troy had rolled his eyes, teasing her of her love of food, and called the local takeout restaurant. The atmosphere was easy with zero tension between the two ex-lovers. As it was supposed to be.

"Don't waste your time." He snickered, "seriously, Gab, nothing exciting has really happened. I've been getting pulled to tux fittings and shit for the wedding." Gabriella blushed, imagining how incredible he would look in a black suit.

"Jason says even Zeke is acting psychotic."

Troy snorted, "On his good days. The current debate is who should be his best man. Sharpay and his brother John don't get along, so he wants to please her." A roll of the eyes, "I swear to God, I can't figure out why the hell he wants to marry her. I mean, being friends with her is tough enough."

Nodding, she remembered sitting in the coffee shop back in New York and remembered the story of Sharpay's desire to have him in her manicured clutches. It made Gabriella slightly smug, that all these females had wanted him at one point, but Gabriella had snatched him. Of course, the cockiness quickly faded – she didn't even know if he was dating someone else, but she _did _know that he certainly wasn't hers. Not anymore.

"You got my email about the Warriors, right?" Troy asked, making conversation more than boasting.

She saw the shimmer of cockiness and pride that he had held when he was in high school as he spoke. Gabriella nodded eagerly, "Yes! Congratulations, by the way. Making it to the championship is an amazing feat."

"Thank you," his hand skimmed over the white carpet, "They're going to be great next year too. It's too bad I won't see 'em."

A memory of reading he had resigned from his post as coach flooded her brain, "They're going to miss you."

He shrugged, "They'll be fine. And Leo's headed to Duke. He's going to shine."

She sighed and gazed up at him warily – choking on her words before they came out, "I still don't get why you aren't going to coach next year."

A long, drawn smirk drew over his face that was anything but sad – the opposite of what she would have expected. Simply shrugging his shoulders, Troy watched her every move as he spoke, "I think it's finally time for me to leave that part of my life behind. With me finishing school for the year and everything a few weeks ago."

Her fingers crossed each other, feeling a rush of a flush again, remembering how much he shined in college, how he could have experienced the greatness Leo would undoubtedly receive. Troy noticed her coyness, for he sent her a warming grin, "Um…are you, I mean, never mind-" Gabriella struggled to speak the words that she so desperately wanted to ask, but figured it wasn't her place.

Troy tilted his head curiously, "Ask me." His eyes shined brilliantly.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

Instead of being taken aback of the candidness, Troy simply looked down with a smile, "No, at least not right now," the look he gave her after the statement made her stomach flip, "Are you?"

"No." Gabriella responded hurriedly, adding, "I mean… not presently."

"Huh…" He mused, inching the slightest bit closer to him without subtly.

There was another question – one that Gabriella had been curious about since he first arrived on her doorstep with a magenta bang in his clutches. In fact, it had been longer than that. Gabriella had been consumed with the thought since the fateful night that she last saw him in New York – the night that should have been celebrated in victory for her discovery, but it was the furthest from. She unconsciously picked at one of her curls, avoiding him.

Of course, Troy noticed. His fingers gently lifted her chin to his line of vision, "You're quiet." His hand never left her skin as it shifted towards her cheek, gingerly caressing with his thumb. The response was overwhelming – the temperature prickled beneath her.

"I just – I want to ask you something… but I don't want to offend you."

"Try me." He murmured; his face closed the distance between them ever so slightly.

"Are you and Alicia better now?"

His response was unexpected – Gabriella had assumed he would have beamed with happiness that they had reconnected or he would have shoved her away in anger for bringing it up. Instead, however, Troy's face left no hint of extreme emotion. He was neutral, only halting his ministrations because the question was not anticipated. That didn't change how she felt. Gabriella continued to hold her breath.

"The last time I spoke to her was that night." He answered.

Gabriella, despite how much she disliked the lawyer, took hold of his wrist in comfort, cupping his elbow as it slid down.

"I don't even know what to say." Gabriella confessed, staring down at the ground.

"It was for the best. Our friendship was too fucked up, and I hope she's happy somewhere else with someone else."

"I'm sorry." It was meaningful, given the situation., "that must have been hard for you."

"It was a rough week." He confessed - his voice was tight and intense.

Troy picked back up where he left off and began to caress her once again. The feel was hypnotic. It was a strange sensation. In the summer heat, his tips felt as though they were ocean waves rolling over the beach. Yet, lava plundered beneath the surface, steady and powerful, shifting the build and shape of the earth in its path. Her eyes fluttered closed, reveling in what made this touch different from what she received from others. This had its own signature, one that could and would never be replicated by anyone else she would ever encounter. It was _his_, only his.

"You okay?" Troy whispered softly, brushing his thumb over her lips by accident. Gabriella jumped, but a good kind of jump, an electrical kind of jump.

She opened her eyes and stared up at him, dark eyes boring with affection. Troy matched her intensity as she swallowed and squeezed his elbow tighter, "I'm fine. I promise."

"Then what is it?" He barely spoke; it was a breath, instead.

Gabriella dropped her head, coyly, "Um…. It's just that… this," another pulse on his arm, "I missed this."

There was a sudden shift in Troy, like a light switch had been flicked on. His face was illuminated and golden, and suddenly close, "Yeah?"

"But it shouldn't." She said quickly to keep from her embarrassment.

She looked up at him again, feeling the smolder of cerulean burn into the core of her bones. Nothing was ever awkward between the two, but the seconds that ticked away were both excruciating and blissful. Troy didn't stop his delicate strokes, but instead cupped her cheek just beneath her eye. Gabriella felt a magnetic pull raise her to her knees, equal to his height. Troy flickered between both of her irises with a small curl of his lips. She wished that this moment would never end, but she also begged that the anticipation of what was about to occur would cease. Her entire body willed for her to scoot closer, breathe harder, and love inexorably.

"You're right, you shouldn't." His breath was hot, fire spilling over her nose and forehead.

"Definitely not." She was inches from him, mere centimeters from where she belonged.

"Then I guess," he paused, curling his hand around the back of her neck and making her breath hitch, "You shouldn't miss this either…"

His lips were both familiar and uncharted at the same time. Gabriella gasped into his mouth, remembering the feel. Not only had she not kissed him in over three months, but she hadn't kissed _anyone_. It only took a brief moment to reacquaint herself with the task, however. Troy's lips were tender and careful, though every second that passed left a wake of intensity. Gabriella soon found their mouths lingering longer upon each other, his bottom lip between hers, his tongue running against the corners of her suppressed smile. It was a perfect mix of sexy and sweet, with love sprinkled on top.

The restrain, however, only lasted a few minutes. Soon, Troy's hand reached into the nest of her curls and wound his fingers through each spiral, bringing her closer. Gabriella's body began to ache with desire to press every inch of her against him, to rediscover the curves and crevices of his muscles and limbs. Gabriella's hand cupped his elbow as he pulled away slightly; his eyes were half opened and shining with adoration. It was she who initiated the kiss then, tilting his jaw downwards to grant him a deeper access into her. Their mouths opened in synchronization – a slow waltz of lust.

She didn't think – not about where she was or who she was for that matter. All she was concerned of was to bring back the fantasies that she had dreamed of so many nights while she was gone. The way his hand ran down her side and sent shivers down her spine or the taste of passion on his lips was resurrected. Her life of newspaper clippings and recorders was gone; all that was important was how long this dream would last until she would awaken again, very alone.

Finally, Troy pulled away, but not far enough. He gazed upon her, his eyes reflective of a midnight sun. Gabriella hung with her mouth unhinged. Slowly, steadily, Troy pushed back her freshly cut bangs with his forearms before encircling her into his muscles, "Come here…" He whispered longingly.

Before Gabriella knew what was happening, his large hands hooked her bare thigh over his hips so she was straddling his waist. His lips sprinkled kisses down the side of her neck to initiate the dive of her hands into his scalp. The intimacy of the curve of his hips with his back against the couch and his knees raised behind her was unbearable. She was completely consumed in his grasp, as though he was claiming her as his.

But was he?

Despite the rush of need that surged through her body, Gabriella's mind suddenly began to function again. Although the sensations Troy sent rolling down her spine were overwhelming, she had a brief memory of what the weeks after she left Troy had been like. The pierce in her heart, though it was completely disappeared, left a ring of a ghost. She could suddenly recall the nights she spent, crying to herself until she was too exhausted to continue. The thought of reliving the tears, if he left, would be unbearable. Troy Bolton lived in New York, away from the glitz and glamour of LA. Would one night be worth her heartbreak?

She then remembered her promise to herself – she would not have a one night stand with Troy Bolton. She loved him too damn much for that.

"I missed you, so fucking much." He mumbled before kissing her soundlessly again.

It took every ounce of strength to detach her lips from his and pull away, her eyes burning with longing and hidden tears. Her hands rested on his shoulders as he pushed back her hair again and attempted to continue where they left off. Gabriella, however, placed her fingers upon his lips and softly halted him, "Troy…" Her voice croaked.

The rejection suddenly dawned. Troy, although not recoiling, suddenly went placid. Gabriella gnawed upon her lip, kicking herself mentally for the hurt that washed over him. She could feel it – the way the makeshift backrest of his knees stiffened and his hands clenched possessively in her hair.

Troy had a sad smile on his face when he dropped his head to stare at where they were joined, "I shouldn't have assumed…"

Gabriella shook her head. Her fingers gripped his bangs and forced up to look upwards, into the burn of her eyes, "I'm sorry… Troy, I'm so sorry." The way he clawed at her back, hanging onto any moment possible made her wish to retract the words so desperately. She slowly ran circles into his scalp as he pressed his head against her shirt covering her chest, hiding.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." he whispered, pressing his lips against the curve of her neck, whether he was consciously aware he was doing it or not was irrelevant, "I should I figured you would have… moved on…"

"It's not that I don't want to do this," Gabriella promised, bringing his head back upwards again to meet her smolder, "I just can't do this knowing that it's just one night. It would… it would hurt too much. Losing you once… I can't do it again…"

She felt a rush of pink upon her cheeks when she realized what she just confessed. In that time, however, she missed the sparkle that exploded from his eyes at the words. Sighing, Gabriella attempted to lean backwards to dismount him to keep from making a mistake, but Troy's hands gripped tightly against her sides, keeping her in place. She furrowed her black eyebrows, perplexed by his insistency to hold her. It was then that she noticed the increase of his breath, working the courage to never flicker from her.

"So… if this," his forefinger, trembling, motioned the connection between them before returning them to her waist, "wasn't just a night? What would it mean?"

Gabriella didn't understand – wasn't he returning back to New York as soon as the rest of the gang stepped on the plane as well? Why was he putting her through this torture to confess her feelings and break her heart all over again? But the glimmer of hope that shined in his eyes indicated that something more was occurring.

Falling into the trap of his features, Gabriella swallowed, her voice shaking, "It would mean… I wouldn't want to be without you ever again."

Troy cupped either side of her face, the yellow glow from above making him appear more alive than he ever had before, "What if I told you I wasn't going back to New York?" Troy hurried as he spoke fiercely.

Gabriella was speechless, breathless. Reality was unable to be grasped upon. This was certainly a dream, a fantasy she had conjured in her hangover. This was a joke – there was no other explanation for the sanity of it. It was simply a sick and masochistic taunt to keep her from being happy. But Gabriella couldn't help but linger on his words, pretending for a brief moment that they were true and what it would mean. She matched his pants, far more intense than the struggles for air she had had while kissing him. The emotion that grew within, the pleads were overwhelming. Gabriella felt dizzy.

"I'd say you're lying." Gabriella hissed, a desperate kind of hiss.

Troy ignored her, "What if I told you I've been living in LA for the past two weeks? That the gang is in my lease instead of a hotel?"

She froze; Jason had been so persistent about being sure they stayed at an apparent hotel, "I'd tell you to stop shitting me." Tears flooded her eyes, happy tears.

He was staying.

He brought her forehead to his, massaging the nape of her neck, "What if I told you I had an interview at an office today as a PT and got it?" His smile rushed over his cheeks, leaving no room for fibs. It then made sense, the reason he was so dressed up that morning. An interview made much more sense than a gym visit.

The tears finally began to slip down her cheeks as she fought back both a sob and a smile. The word was stopping around her, and all that was left was him.

"I'd say I don't believe it."

"What if-" he whispered, "what if I told you I've _never _been in love with anyone the way I am with you?"

Gabriella didn't hesitate.

"I'd say I love you too."

When they kissed this time, it was much different than they had a few minutes before. An explosion of lightning was neither as hot as their lips. It burst – with love imploding between her toes and up to her heart. This wasn't out of lust, this was developed from the very depths of her soul, holding adoration with each probe. They weren't racing time, they weren't in a hurry to save the moment together for lonelier times. The longitude of the flick of their tongues and the strokes of their bodies were purposely slowed to celebrate. Nothing could break them apart.

Therefore, when Troy thrust upwards too hard and Gabriella toppled onto her back, crashing into the carpet with a loss of balance, he merely snickered and wiggled carefully to hover over her.

Gabriella grinned ridiculously, gripping the sides of his face as he balanced on his forearms to keep from crushing her, "Is this real? Are you staying here?"

His nose nuzzled hers, "If you'll have me."

"On two conditions."

Troy pecked her lips, "Name 'em."

Gabriella's hands ran down the muscles in his arms, raising goosebumps, "You promise me that there's nothing more to your past that you haven't told me."

Although some may have felt offense to this, Troy snickered instead, "I swear on my basketball, there's nothing more to it," his lips hung mere inches over hers, "And the second?"

"You'll buy me a Hello Kitty pencil to match my pen."

The sound of her giggle was silenced by the smacking of his lips against hers.


	39. Epilogue: Year Two

Two years.

It had been two years since Gabriella had last seen Alicia Moretti.

Yet, while sitting on the sidewalk outside the jewelry store, she recognized her in a heartbeat.

"Gabriella Montez?" The girl called at the same moment that Gabriella sighed with boredom and began to impatiently tap her fingers against the burning sidewalk.

At first, in the balming sunshine, Gabriella believed she was delirious. It was quite possible that being outside had quickly given her heatstroke and she was imagining the meeting. Los Angeles held 9,862,049 people – it was highly unlikely that the woman she met in New York City two years ago would run into her on a Saturday afternoon. But there she was, with her hair in caramel shimmers that now reached the middle of her taut abdomen and her glowing skin that hadn't shined the same bright hue when she last saw her. However, the eyes were what proved this was no mistake – they shined emerald and exploded with life when she approached with her heels sharp and her hand laced with someone else's.

Gabriella squinted in the light, struggling to comprehend what she was really seeing, "Alicia?"

For the first time ever, Alicia Moretti smiled brightly as she stopped in front of her. Quickly, Gabriella scurried to a stance in old habits to keep from being inferior. She came up short, only wearing sandals that wrapped around her ankles in the popular Greek style to match her jean shorts and decorative tank top. Alicia wore a top that showed off the toned muscles in her arms and had her sunglasses pushed atop her head, with the same astounded expression Gabriella had on her face.

"Wow… I can honestly say I never thought I'd see you again." Alicia exclaimed.

They didn't hug, as other long lost friends might. Instead Gabriella awkwardly ran her fingers through her curls, a nervous habit she had picked up from Troy, "Um… yeah… how have you been?"

Alicia smiled. Again, it was unnatural, "Good… really good, you?"

Gabriella, feeling her competitiveness that she hadn't experienced since she lived in New York kick in again, quickly nodded, "Really, really good." Instinctively, her eyes flickered towards the chic store, knowing who remained inside.

For a moment, they were silent. The memories and emotions of disgust and irritation began to rise again, ones she hadn't felt in over two years. Gabriella couldn't help herself when she gave the woman a one over, checking for faults just as she had the first night that she met her back in Taylor and Chad's apartment. Again, she cursed the woman's perfection, for now it had escaladed in the years that had passed. There was a sudden sparkle that she had never seen, a glint in her eye as she shifted weight been her heels that made her absolutely stunning. Although she knew he would never shift his attraction, Gabriella suddenly prayed the jeweler attempted to sell Troy the entire store to keep him from walking outside.

"What are you doing in LA?" Gabriella asked curiously, still floored at her appearance in the city that belonged to her.

Alicia noted her slight bitterness; it was easy to see by the faltered lines of her face. But instead of matching her annoyances as she once had in the past, she simply shrugged, "We were visiting my parents in Sacramento to um… make an announcement."

It was then that Gabriella noticed the dazzle that rested on her third finger in the hand that tightly clutched the body builder beside her. For the first time, Gabriella really acknowledged him. He was blonde and beefy – by no means overweight but so muscular that it made Gabriella's natural fear pulse. Strikingly handsome, his face formed the shape of a heart with the widow's peak grazing over his forehead. His eyes were piercing and blue – not oceanic like Troy's, but protective and sharp. It matched the definition of his jaw to prove he was tough, but his grin revealed a vulnerability, especially when he looked at Alicia.

Any guy would have to have a backbone to date her – he seemed like the perfect fit.

"Wow, I'm a bitch. Kyle, this is Gabriella Montez… Gabriella, this is Kyle Morton, my fiancé." She smiled when she spoke the final word, glancing up at him as though he owned the sky.

For the first time since she arrived, Gabriella let a breath out and released the tension in her shoulders when Kyle grinned at her, "How's it goin'?" He asked in a charming voice.

"Well um… congrats!" Gabriella said sincerely, which sounded strange on her lips, "wow… when's the big day?"

Kyle looped his arm around her waist, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head, "Not til next April… Kyle's just got hired at a new firm and doesn't want to take off right away, and we didn't want to have it in winter… you know how New York gets."

Thanks to her talents as a profiler, this simple sentence informed her so much of what had become of Alicia in the time that she had been in Los Angeles. Obviously, they had met due to their matching professions. Kyle lived back in the Big Apple with her, and they were planning to stay there after their union, or he would not have accepted a job there. She could speculate that they had been dating for at least a year and a half – Alicia hadn't been a person to jump after the first person she saw, therefore they would have had to have a solid foundation before agreeing to marry. There was a sudden flicker of jealousy in Gabriella's eyes that she would be settling before Gabriella herself would be, but it disappeared when she noted the pure happiness that radiated off the two, something she had never truly seen.

"I do." Gabriella responded, playing with her naked ring finger.

Alicia's bright eyes narrowed on it, Gabriella was certain she was searching for a rock, "You still working for the Times? Everything working out?"

Gabriella nodded, a burst of pride welling in her stomach, "Yep. We're happy." She was surprised Kyle didn't react as most did when they discovered where her job was stationed. It was probable this wasn't the first he had heard of her.

There was a silence when Alicia looked up and locked gazes with her. _We're. _Gabriella hadn't even purposefully let it slip; it had now become a habit. The lawyer didn't have to ask the question – Gabriella could already tell what the topic would be by the way her orbs shined with a burning curiosity. Kyle noticed the shift in her too, his grasp on her lightened and he tensed. She gnawed on her lower lip and allowed her eyes to close, potentially returning to a place she hadn't been in for years.

Alicia took a deep breath and allowed her lashes to lift, "Do you ever see… I mean, are you… is he…?"

Instinctively, Gabriella's eyes shifted towards the shadows that shimmered beyond the door of the jewelry store, where her world began. Alicia followed her stare and nodded, understanding completely.

The momentary vulnerability, however, disappeared when Kyle squeezed her fingers, bringing her back to the present. She swallowed and looked back at Gabriella, a sad smile on her face.

"We should uh… probably get going." She said, glancing up at her fiancé with reassurance. Kyle kissed her forehead, knowingly – comfortingly.

Gabriella nodded, "Well congratulations, again."

Alicia let out a dry laugh that was not funny, "Thank you. Good luck Gabriella."

"You too."

They didn't hug; they didn't make amends for what had occurred between them two years previously. The last time Gabriella had seen her, she had admitted she was in love with the same man Gabriella was. But now, as she looped her arm around her new fiancé's waist and began to walk past her, she understood what Alicia's place had been in Troy Bolton's life, and how it had made both best friends stronger. Despite all that happened, Gabriella was thankful Troy had had Alicia when he needed her during the psychotic episodes of Emily's obsession. Their sexual connection had been unhealthy, but it had brought him to Gabriella – and she would have never traded that away.

Alicia timed her escape well. No later than the fade of her heels against the sidewalk, Gabriella heard the sound of a swinging door and footsteps behind her. With sweat dripping down the back of her neck, she twirled her cascading locks around and sighed in both relief and adoration.

A smile drew on her face as the figure approached, his golden skin glowing in the sunlight without a taint of shadows or darkness.

"Finally!" Gabriella whined with a pout of her arms. His eyes narrowed in a playful offense, his strides lengthening as he grew closer to her, "What? Did you buy the entire store?"

Troy stuck his tongue out, "Shut up. It's _is _my mom's birthday and she was super picky about what she wanted." He dangled the plastic bang that held the elongated box fit for a necklace, "Besides, you were the one who walked out of there."

"Because you kept making fun of me in front of the guy!"

Troy pointed to her, "Hey… even you have to admit it was funny when you thought you sliced your finger on that necklace."

She glowered at him, "So are you done now?" Gabriella asked, not meaning to be rude about getting a gift for a woman she had grown so close to since her first of many visits to Albuquerque.

"Man, demanding…" Troy snickered with a roll of his eyes, not before winking with his stunning iris towards her.

"I'm hungry, alright?"

Troy snorted, "Weird…that never happens." His sarcasm made her glare.

He stopped before her, raising the hair on her arms ever so slightly in the memory at who was standing in his place just moments before. Of course, while not wanting to draw attention to it, Gabriella turned in the direction that Alicia escaped to only to see, even two blocks away now; her muscular body was strutting away with her hand in Kyle's. And, obviously, Troy turned towards where her attention was divided and furrowed his eyebrows – not with pain – but with curiosity and recognition. There was a dawn upon his face, a widen of his eyes, that suddenly made her tense. For a brief second, Gabriella feared he was going to sprint down the sidewalk towards the disappearing figure. It made her stomach churn.

But instead, Troy simply shook his head and turned back to her – a blinding smile on his lips, "There's gonna be so much at the game tonight that you won't want to eat for a week."

Slinging his arm around her waist, Troy pressed a kiss to her temple, the same way he had since they inhabited New York. He turned in the opposite direction of where Alicia walked, not looking back.

"Are you sure me coming is okay tonight?" Gabriella questioned with hesitation, but nonetheless wrapped around Troy's built abdomen as well.

"Of course it's okay. Pat been pissing and moaning for months now me coming to the game." Troy smirked. She saw the cockiness of his youth shine through at the mention of Patrick O'Neil and what would have been his coach in the NBA if his life hadn't taken an alteration, as he now called it, "It's not every day the Heat and the Lakers go head to head."

She let out a breath, "I know, I know… but you could have called Chad and had him fly down… or Drew – since he _does _work at the PT office you do, so he's gotta like sports. I overheard you talking to him about it when we went out with him and Claire last Friday. Jason could have flown in with Jamie… since living with that douchebag has got to be taking a toll on her."

He stopped and forced her to turn to face him, his eyes shining and his large hands rested on her shoulders – anchoring her to her spot as cars zoomed by, "Gabriella. I wouldn't want to go with anyone else. Tonight's going to be perfect, I promise you."

There was something in the way he spoke that made Gabriella's ears prickle up. His tone had always been hypnotic and alluring, but there was another emotion that laced through each word and syllable. At first, she didn't recognize it – she hadn't heard it in the two years that he had moved into their extended temporary apartment. It was such a contrast to his confidence and swagger that Gabriella had completely forgotten what it sounded like. But then, as her recollections began to flood through her brain, she suddenly recalled the way his scalped chest held its breath beneath the black t-shirt and his khaki shorts held shifting knees.

He was nervous.

She scratched his back, "I've never been in box seats before." Gabriella commented excitedly, snaking her arms up his neck to pull them close together. Troy was hesitant, keeping a distance from her and making her frown with disappointment.

"Well then you're about to get star treatment." He whispered in her ear tenderly and pushed back her bangs to smile adoringly at her face.

Gabriella giggled her oh so famous laugh, "Guess I get to take a walk on the famous life of Troy Bolton side, huh?" She teased his past - what was once voodoo in his life.

"Play your cards right," Troy purred in her ear and brought their hips together, groin to groin in the middle of the sidewalk, "and I'll make sure you get the VIP treatment." He nibbled on her lobe.

Gabriella gasped, but not because of his provocative suggestion….

It was because of the bulge resting in his pocket.

There was no denying what it was as it pressed up to her taught abdomen through the shorts that hung low on his toned waist. The object was hard – too square to be his iPhone and too flat to be his keys. There was a hollowness to it, but still sturdy enough to poke into her stomach. It was the shape of a woman's fantasy and a childhood's play. The feel caused Gabriella's body to tremble and her dark, mocha eyes to widen with disbelief. Had Troy not been holding her up, she would have certainly passed out onto the cement. The world halted and raced at the same moment – time stood still.

It was the perfect shape of a velvet box fit for a ring.

Fourteen long seconds passed before Gabriella's hand, quivering, reached to be sure it was real.

Troy, however, had more sense than she did. He quickly snatched her fingers before they could confirm her suspicions and weaved them through his. She had no room to protest, for Troy's eyes closed and he pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was slow and sensual; enough to make her toes curl with each pulsation of her lower lip caught between his. The sun was not as explosive as they were – Gabriella's arms quickly wound around his neck and she pressed her body against his to feel the box again. She didn't care that they were on display for Los Angeles; Gabriella wanted the world to know he was hers.

When they pulled away, the sapphires of Troy's eyes darted over the curves of her face. Gabriella's did the same, trailing over the gold in his skin to the scar that ran to his lip – the remembrance of a horror in his past and a reminder of his strength that he had overcome.

And she had loved him for it. Always.

Gabriella played with the tiny hairs on the back of his neck, "So what's the story?" She asked, her eyes flashing to the pop of his pants, what would soon be on her finger.

Troy smirked wickedly, "Last time I checked, Montez, you were a journalist."

"That is what it says at The Times."

He gazed at her through his lashes, "Then maybe you'll find your answer."

Raising his eyebrows twice in a challenge, Troy pulled away from her – dangerous and scheming.

"I intend to."

* * *

Fourteen.

For a period of his life, the number had haunted him, mercilessly. Every gasp of air, every thump of his heart echoed the double digits in a cruel and tortuous way. It wasn't until he spent the first fourteen minutes beneath an ass shaped sign meeting the woman that would pull him from his pain and showed him how to love that transformed the number into a blessing instead of a curse.

It took fourteen minutes for the happy couple to skip hand in hand from the bottom of the Staples Center to their box seat that night – numbered fourteen. Fourteen red roses had shed their petals when they stepped inside, leading a path to the fourteen stems that twirled in a glass vase upon the table. The coach that would have been his visited their bubble fourteen minutes before the players were released from their locker rooms. After shaking his hand fourteen times and chatting for fourteen seconds before he had to return, he dimmed the lights and sat in the fourteenth seat. The Heat was up by fourteen points when, fourteen minutes after the fourth quarter commenced, he lit fourteen candles and dropped down to one knee. She said yes fourteen times before jumping into his arms, which then he spun her fourteen twirls with giggles leaking from their throats.

They were married with fourteen friends that stood up in the ceremony. After spending fourteen days lying on a beach and spending fourteen hours between the sheets per day, they returned to Los Angeles with domestication in their sparkling in their eyes. It took fourteen weeks before she turned in her resignation at The Los Angeles Times and to move into a three bedroom home in Pasadena. Fourteen days later, she was hired at the local journal and he was requested as a coach for the local high school, along with a job as a physical therapist fourteen blocks away.

Fourteen months after their rings were exchanged; they attempted to create life fourteen times before she finally conceived. Tears streamed down their faces in happiness for fourteen hours after receiving the news and they called fourteen of their friends and family. They suggested fourteen names before finally agreeing on one. Months later, she was rushed to the hospital fourteen miles away.

It took fourteen hours for their child to reveal itself. A final fourteen minutes of contractions was needed before the infant took its first breath of life. He kissed his wife fourteen times in the process, before his love was suddenly split in two. He first laid eyes on his daughter at 2:14 AM. For fourteen minutes, he cried before finally taking the baby girl in his arms, promising her fourteen times that he would love her for an eternity.

Fourteen minutes. All it took was fourteen minutes for her to live.

* * *

**A/N: I want to thank everyone who stuck with me through this story. I'm going to be completely honest – this was hard for me. I really wanted to prove that I could write a story that wasn't driven by Troy and Gabriella's attraction to each other, and even though I believe a lot of you were frustrated by this, I really hope I was successful to deliver that. There was a point that I really struggled, but you guys didn't give up on me, and for that I am thankful. This turned into a story I could really be proud of.**

**Special thanks to HPincognito247 and Savannah O'Ryan, who always gave me a lifejacket when I wanted to jump ship. You both kept me from insanity, thank you for being there when I needed you most.**

**Thank you, so much again for reading. My next story will be up within the next few days – or hours, you all know how I am.**


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